


Love Beyond Magic

by ivy_baskin, LB714



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, Post - Deathly Hallows, Romance, Wedding Night, Wedding Rings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivy_baskin/pseuds/ivy_baskin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB714/pseuds/LB714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Deathly Hallows, life is settling back into normal routines, and Harry is about to become an Auror.  When Ginny goes away on a tour with the Holyhead Harpies, he realises just how much he misses her, and makes a big decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter story that starts out for General Audiences, but progresses to Mature and then Explicit in the last three chapters.

 

This is a work of fiction, which borrows characters created and/or owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros.,  
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, Raincoast Books, and Scholastic Inc. We do not own the characters, certainly no profit  
was made from the use of them, and no harm came to them in the course of writing the story.  
We return them to their owners with thanks. 

 

 _ **CHAPTER 1**_  
  
  
"I really must de-gnome the garden before I go up to my room and pack. Mum doesn't have anyone else to do it for her anymore, since Ron moved out."

Despite her stated intentions, Ginny remained where she was, seated under a tree in the middle of the Burrows' garden and watching the gnomes playing hide-and-seek around the peony bushes. She and Harry had been there for quite some time, whiling away a beautiful midsummer day. Ginny was due to leave on a tour of Europe with her Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies, the next day, and she was nowhere near ready for the trip, but she just couldn't be fussed about it at the moment. It was far more pleasant to stay here, under the overgrown Flutterby bush, with Harry's head in her lap than to think about her job. She smiled down at him, stroking her fingers lightly through his hair.

Harry had been dozing lightly, so soothed by Ginny's rhythmic movements that he was lulled into a peaceful state. But her words brought him back. Packing. She was leaving for several weeks, and this was the last day they'd have together for quite some time. Theirs were stolen moments, for even with the Burrow nearly empty, there was still a sense that they were being watched. Hermione once told him he had Auror's Ears, that sixth sense that he somehow knew someone was lurking about.

"I could help you. De-gnome the garden, that is." But he didn't move, either. He wanted to stay like this for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, it was back to the Ministry and another investigation. He'd been apprenticing for almost two years, and it wouldn't be long before he became an Auror officially. He'd been thinking about that a lot lately, how his life was moving forward. How the events of the past were slowly, very slowly slipping away.

"We're a great pair, aren't we?" Ginny grinned down at Harry, and tapped the end of his nose lightly. "The gnomes will have taken over the whole house by the time we get around to them!"

Truthfully, Ginny didn't really care if the gnomes started dancing on the dinner table. Harry looked so peaceful, so content, and it made her heart sing to see that he was happy, that the past and all its pain was no longer a shadow over him.

"I was wondering," she said softly, resting her hand on his chest, "if maybe you might not be able to take a Portkey over to Paris, when we play our exhibition match there in two weeks. I'm going to miss you so much, being gone for a whole month." She sighed heavily.

Reluctantly, Harry sat up. He took Ginny's hand, small and soft. "You know I'd like nothing more. But I can't. I'm working on that investigation, you know, there's talk of a new faction of Death Eaters, and I'm almost finished my apprenticeship. Damn," he said. They hadn't been apart this long since Ginny's last year at Hogwarts. But this was a great opportunity for her, and Harry didn't want her to miss out on it.

Ginny sighed again, and squeezed Harry's hand lightly. "I know you're too busy right now. It was . . . wishful thinking." She gave him a sad little smile. "I'll just have to send you an owl every day, then. Too bad they can't actually deliver a kiss. So I could send you one of these every day, too." She leaned toward Harry and closed her eyes, pressing her lips softly against his.

Harry responded immediately, and when they finally came up for air, he said, "Well, since you're going to be away for so long, I want a kiss for every day you'll be gone."

"How about two?" Ginny whispered, moving a little closer. "Though, I'm afraid my mum might come out looking for us before we finished." She stroked Harry's cheek with the back of her hand and smiled at him. "So . . . we'd better get started, don't you think?"

Harry grinned, looked quickly over at the house, and nodded eagerly.

Ginny leaned back against the Flutterby bush—pausing only to swat a gnome out of the way—and drew Harry back with her. The possibility that her mother could interrupt them was all too real, and she wanted to be sure Harry got at least his first week's worth of kisses before that happened. . . .

 

******

 

"Now don't forget Krum has a tendency to fly low and then loop back, so keep an eye on him." They were in the yard, Harry holding Ginny's broom, saying good-bye before she Apparated to her first match. "And give him my regards."

Ginny shook her head, smiling at Harry indulgently. "I DO remember Viktor's tactics, Harry—I've played against him often enough by now. But I will tell him hello from you, yes." She reached out for her broom, and then took his hand, shaking it playfully. "I don't want to talk about Viktor Krum, though; I want to talk about us. I'm going to miss you, Harry, so much." She gave him a sad, longing look, and then leaned in for a quick kiss.

"I'll miss you, too, Ginny," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He'd been stalling, trying to avoid this moment when she would leave him. "It will go by quickly. I'll be so busy at the Ministry, you'll be home before you know it."

"I suppose," she said skeptically. Then Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Speaking of the Ministry, be careful of that new Auror trainee who just transferred from Ireland, please—Maeve Doherty. She has a crush on you."

"She does not!" Harry exclaimed, blushing. "Besides, I'm already taken."

"You most certainly are," Ginny said, reaching out to slide her arm around Harry's neck and pull him closer. When his lips were inches from hers, she whispered, "Just make sure she knows it."

Harry didn't need to say anything. He only needed to close the gap and press his lips to Ginny for a deep, lasting kiss. After all, it was going to have to sustain them for an entire month.

She could barely bring herself to do it, but finally Ginny broke away from their kiss, and rested her forehead on Harry's. "I've got to go now," she said quietly.

"I know," Harry whispered back. "Just . . . one more minute, okay?" He took her in his arms and held her, wishing more than anything for a Time-Turner. "I'll see you soon," he said finally.

"Not soon enough." Ginny started to walk away from Harry, only letting go of his hand when she absolutely had to. With one last, long look, her eyes burning as if she were memorizing his face, Ginny turned on the spot, and vanished into the cool morning air.

Harry watched for a few minutes the space where Ginny had just been a moment ago. A piece of his heart vanished with her, and would travel with her for the next month.

 

******

 

" _Mmm_ . . . that smells wonderful, Kreacher," Hermione said, leaning in to sniff at the pot bubbling over on the cooker.

This earned her a filthy look from the house elf, who only just stopped himself from pushing her aside. "Dinner must wait till Master Harry is ready," he pronounced, and moved the pot an inch further away from her.

Hermione sighed and returned to her chair at the table. When she had started working at the Ministry and Harry had suggested she move into Grimmauld Place with him, it had seemed like the perfect arrangement: she'd be closer to work, Harry wouldn't be alone. And she would be closer to Ron, too, who worked with George in Diagon Alley; that was very important. And on the whole it really was working out well—except for Kreacher. Try as she might, the ancient house elf continued to merely tolerate Hermione, for Harry's sake.

She looked over at Harry, who was sitting across from her at the table. "Do you think he'll _ever_ like me?" she said sadly.

Harry looked up from the _Daily Prophet_ he was perusing. He'd been reading the article on the previous day's Quidditch match. Ginny had scored four goals. _That's my girl,_ thought Harry. "He does like you. If he didn't, he would have spilled that soup on you."

They had been living together almost a year and had settled into a sort of dysfunctional domesticity that friends often arrive at in this situation. Although Ron didn't technically live here—most nights he told his parents that he was staying at the flat over his shop in Diagon Alley—Harry had a feeling the Weasleys knew exactly what the arrangement was. And they didn't say anything because Ron was their son. Ginny, however, was another matter. The rare times she did stay over, it was with the understanding that she was sleeping in Hermione's room. It seemed to Harry that the same double standard that existed in the Muggle world also applied to the wizarding world.

It had only been a few days since she'd left for her tour, but already Harry was missing her. He wondered when Pigwidgeon would arrive with the post. _Perhaps when Ron gets here,_ he mused.

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful for that small favour, then." Hermione rolled her eyes, and then looked at her watch. "Ron should be here any minute," she mused. Hermione raised herself halfway out of her chair to peek over the edge of the newspaper, saw what Harry was reading, and smiled fondly.

"She's doing well, isn't she? Ginny making the Holyhead Harpies team was a natural, really." Hermione studied Harry for a moment. "But I can imagine how much she's missing you," she continued, her voice a little quieter.

"Do you think so?" Harry asked, not bothering to mask the hope in his voice. Hearing Ginny's name snapped him out of the trance he'd been in while reading the paper.

Hermione gave him a very knowing smile. "Oh, yes. Definitely. You of all people know how much she loves Quidditch, but when I said good-bye to her, all she could talk about was how many days it was till she'd be back. I'll bet you know _exactly_ how many days it is, too." She reached out and squeezed Harry's hand.

Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that not only did he know the days, he knew the hours and seconds as well. "What's taking Ron so long? I'm famished."

Hermione knew not to pursue the question any more, so she simply smiled and then got up from her chair and walked to the kitchen door. Standing at the foot of the stairs, she listened for a moment. "I think I hear the front door opening now," she said, her face brightening. "He's here." Hermione turned back and grinned at him. "Perhaps Master Harry can let Kreacher know he's ready for dinner now," she teased.

Harry rolled his eyes and put aside the paper, just as Pigwidgeon zoomed into the kitchen and flew around in circles, excited to be delivering the day's mail. Harry tried to wait patiently, but he could see the letter tied to the owl's leg. It took all his effort to stop himself from grabbing the bird mid-flight and tearing the letter from him. Finally, Pigwidgeon settled on the table, still twittering, and stuck out his leg for Harry, who quickly untied the small scroll before the tiny owl zoomed around the room again.

"Is supper ready? I'm starving, mate," Ron moaned, entering the kitchen.

With a scowl, Harry replied, "Took you long enough."

"I couldn't help it—George made me stay to help him fill orders. With the new term almost starting, we're swamped!"

"Oh, Ron, you're always starving. And stop complaining—you know you love working there," Hermione chided him. But she had put her arms around Ron as soon as he entered the room, and proceeded to give him a very warm and lingering welcome-home sort of kiss.

Harry looked away, pretending to busy himself with the dishes. But Kreacher nudged him, saying, "Master Harry, Kreacher will set the table. Master Harry works hard."

"It's all right, Kreacher, I can help." The truth was, he didn't want to watch Hermione and Ron snogging. He didn't understand why, but tonight it was bothering him. Maybe it was because he missed Ginny already. He loudly placed the dishes on the table.

Ron started. "Bloody hell. What's gotten your socks in a knot?"

"Nothing, I'm hungry is all." He avoided eye contact with Ron. His best friend had come to accept Harry's relationship with Ginny, but he was sure Ron didn't want to hear about it.

Hermione let go of Ron and, after taking a quick look at Harry's face, she stepped back and grabbed Ron's hand, leading him to the table. "Time for dinner," she said. "Kreacher's prepared a wonderful meal for us,"—she smiled and nodded at the house elf, who ignored her—"so why don't we all sit down and enjoy it while we tell each other how our day went?"

Opening bottles of Butterbeer for Ron and Harry, and then for herself, Hermione started to tell them all about her latest round of cases at the International Magical Office of Law as they tucked in to the food.

The letter tucked into his pocket, Harry tried his best to concentrate on the dinner conversation. He was anxious to finish quickly so he could retire to his room to read the letter and listen to tonight's Quidditch match on the wireless. He couldn't help noticing, though, how Hermione looked at Ron, occasionally wiping a spill off the corner of his mouth with her napkin, giggling at his jokes, lightly touching his arm. He didn't know why, but tonight it bothered him.

Once dinner was over, Hermione made her usual offer to help clean up, and Kreacher replied with his usual refusal to let her touch anything in the kitchen. Huffing in exasperation, Hermione turned back to the table, and to Harry. She had noticed that, even though Pigwidgeon had brought him a letter, Harry had not opened it, and was no doubt waiting for some privacy to read it. He seemed to be a little withdrawn, even grouchy tonight, especially since Ron had arrived—a sure sign in Hermione's eyes that he was missing Ginny even more than he had been willing to admit.

"Ron," she said suddenly, taking his hand, "why don't we go out for a little walk before we . . . erm, before we turn in?"

"A walk? Now? I'd rather fancy something sweet . . ." he said, kissing her cheek and nuzzling her neck.

"Why don't you two get a room!" Harry fumed. He'd had it with their snogging for one night.

Taken aback, Ron scowled. "Fine. That's exactly what we'll do. C'mon, Hermione." And he took her hand and began to lead her toward the stairs.

Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm. "Ron!" Honestly, as much as she loved him, he could be very . . . annoying at times. "I want to go for a walk _first_ ," she said, shooting him a meaningful look and hoping he'd get the hint. She knew Harry wanted some time alone in the house, without knowing they were in their room, doing . . . things he couldn't do. And she wanted Harry to have real privacy to read his letter.

She began to lead Ron from the kitchen, but on her way out, Hermione gave Harry an apologetic smile. "You can tell us what the Quidditch scores are tomorrow morning, okay?" Waving at him, she and Ron headed up the stairs, leaving Harry alone in the kitchen with Kreacher.

Harry glowered at the stairs, even though he knew Hermione was not trying to flaunt her relationship with Ron. Kreacher's voice startled him from his thoughts.

"Would Master Harry care for more treacle tart? Kreacher knows treacle tart is Master Harry's favourite."

"No," Harry said irritably. Then he softened his voice. "Thank you. I'm tired. I think I'll just go to my room."

He headed upstairs, passing Hermione's room, now deserted. He knew she and Ron would come back later and he knew what they'd be doing, and he was jealous.

When Harry moved into Grimmauld Place, it seemed natural that he would occupy Sirius's old room. Hermione had taken to redecorating much of the house, brightening it up where she could, but she left Sirius's room intact at Harry's request. He found the pictures of Sirius and his father on the walls comforting, and the Quidditch posters reminded him of Ginny. His nightstand held pictures of his parents and a framed photograph of Ginny that was taken at Harry's last birthday. In it, she was laughing, her eyes sparkling and her smile almost singing out to him.

He removed the letter from his pocket and reclined on the bed. He tore it open quickly and read hungrily each word of Ginny's delicate script.  
  
  
 _Dear Harry:_

 _It's been only four days, but it seems like four weeks since I last kissed you. I'm already taking out my frustration at being so far away from you on every available Bludger I can find. Gwenog is threatening to change my position to Beater if I don't stop going for them in practice. But it's the only thing that distracts me from thinking of you, and missing you. I'm so tired at night, I fall straight asleep, and dream of you holding me._  
  
Harry smiled and settled back onto the pillows. _So she misses me as much as I miss her,_ he thought. He continued reading:  
  
 _We're in France right now, and will be playing a game tonight. I hope you'll be able to listen to it on the Wizarding Wireless Network; they're going to be broadcasting all the major games on this tour. When you hear that I've scored a goal, know that it's for you._

 _Things are going pretty well; we've won both games we've played so far. Next week we'll be in Bulgaria, and I'll deliver your greetings to Viktor. After that we'll be headed deeper into Europe, with one game in St. Petersburg and one in New Delhi. And there's a rumour that they're going to add an exhibition game at the end of the tour, somewhere in China! The Harpies have never played there before, so it would be a real honour, of course. But it would also mean my letters would take even longer to reach you; I'll probably be home before you'd get anything I'd send from there._  
  
Harry's heart sank as he read that last line. No letters? That worried him. He didn't care for the idea of Ginny being off on her own without word from her. He considered contacting one of his sources in Romania to follow her, but he knew that if Ginny found out, the consequences for him would not be pleasant.  
  
 _I know you're going to worry, Harry, and it won't do me much good to tell you in a letter not to, but I will anyway. Don't worry. I'm fine—just . . . lonely. The other players tease me when I won't go out partying with them after a game, but I don't care. They don't understand how important these letters are to me. They're all we have, until 24 days from now, when I'll be in your arms again._

 _All my love,_  
Ginny  
  
  
Harry laid back on the pillows, held the letter to his chest, and sighed. He caught a whiff of wildflower scent on the parchment. The impact of just how much he missed Ginny was just beginning to hit him. Twenty-four days. How was he going to last twenty-four days without her? He was so proud of her and truly supported her, but he couldn't help feeling disappointed that they couldn't be together right now.

He sat up and reread the letter. "All my love . . ." The words resonated—love. Love. He loved Ginny. He really loved her. Being away from her simply made that obvious. He sighed again and glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle across the room. It was almost time for the match. At least he'd be connected to her in a small way, for at least a little while. 

 

******

 

Another week passed. More letters arrived, and with each one Harry's heart grew heavier. Sometimes the _Daily Prophet_ would include a photograph of the team, and Harry would watch it for minutes at a time. He imagined that in the team photo, Ginny was looking right at him.

One evening, Harry happened to be passing by the tapestry room containing the Black family tree. He had left the family tree on the walls because it was part of the history of this house, and because Sirius was a part of it. But he didn't spend much time in this room—it often conjured up painful memories, but today something drew him inside.

Now, he stepped up close to the wall and stared at it, at the faces of so many men and women, going back centuries. Teddy Lupin should be on here, he thought, but his family line ended at Tonks. He saw the space where Sirius's face once had been, now blackened by his mother. He brought his hand to the wall and with one finger traced the lines leading from the elder Blacks, down to Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda. And from Narcissa to Draco. It suddenly occurred to Harry that, no matter how despicable the Blacks were, there was one undeniable fact that couldn't be ignored: they were family. They married and had children. They might have even loved. Just as suddenly as that thought entered his mind, Harry pulled his hand away from the wall as though it had just burned him. And then it hit him. Family. Love. Marriage.

He wanted to marry Ginny.

All of a sudden, Harry found it difficult to breathe. He loved Ginny. He loved her unconditionally, with all his heart. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

He staggered backward, feeling behind him for the armchair he knew was somewhere in the room. When the backs of his legs hit the seat, he fell into it. He was going to ask Ginny to marry him.

_What if she says no?_ a voice inside him asked.

_What if she says YES?_ he answered back.

Hermione was on her way up to her room, nose buried in a book, when she suddenly felt a . . . space, where there usually wasn't one. She looked up curiously, and realised she was at the door of what Harry called the tapestry room. He didn't usually go in there, and Hermione could certainly understand why—but tonight the door was open. Harry was inside, sitting in a musty old armchair and staring at the wall.

"Harry," she said tentatively, stepping inside the room, "are you all right?"

Harry turned his head toward the voice, his eyes wide, and blurted out, "I'm going to ask Ginny to marry me."

Hermione blinked, shocked for a moment by the simple bluntness of Harry's words. Then, as she slowly absorbed what he was saying, a smile grew and took over her whole face. "Well," she said softly. "It's about time, Harry. I was wondering when you were going to get there."

Harry exhaled. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath. "So you don't think it's stupid?"

Hermione looked up at the ceiling and shook her head, and then laughed. "Harry," she said fondly, "not only do I NOT think it's stupid, I've been waiting to hear you say this . . . well, almost as long as Ginny has." She walked over to the chair and put her hand on his shoulder. "You and Ginny, it's perfect. It always has been. So, when are you going to ask her?"

"When she gets back," Harry said with a smile, relieved to have actually said the words out loud. "Don't tell Ron, though. Not yet, anyway. I'm not sure how he'll take it."

"Of course I won't tell him—that's for you and Ginny to do. But really, it's not that he objects to you—I hope you realize that, Harry." Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, and then sighed. "It's just that . . . he has trouble seeing his little sister as a woman. He always has. It's stupid, but . . . well, don't worry, I'm telling you. I'll take care of Ron; just focus on Ginny." She beamed down at him. "I can't wait to see her face when she tells me."

_I can't wait to see her face when I_ ask _her,_ Harry thought. And that presented some challenges. When would he ask her? Where? Here at Grimmauld Place? No, because despite Hermione's efforts to make the place cheerier, there lingered the ghosts of the past, like the many irremovable portraits on the walls. At the Burrow, in the garden? Harry would have to think about that.

And then, after, where would they live? There were so many things he had to work out in his mind, that Harry found his thoughts occupied for the many days leading up to Ginny's return.  
  
---  
  
 

******

 

The night before Ginny was to arrive back at the Burrow, Harry decided there was something he needed to do before he proposed.

Godric's Hollow was where his life began, and now it was the resting place of his parents. He felt the pull without even really being conscious of it. So that night, near midnight, without telling anyone where he was going, he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and left a note so that Hermione and Ron would at least not worry. Silently, he slipped out the door, turned, and vanished.

 

******

 

Hermione opened the door to the kitchen and peered in carefully. No sign of Kreacher. She entered the room with a bit of relief, yawning and tightening the sash of her dressing gown. It was early yet. Maybe she could manage to make some coffee for her and Ron before the crotchety house elf showed up to do for "Master Harry," and shooed her out while he made breakfast.

As she passed the long table, Hermione noticed a folded piece of parchment with her name on it. Puzzled, she picked it up, unfolded it, and began to read. Before her eyes reached the bottom of the page, she was smiling.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered. "They would be so happy for you. I'm glad you went to tell them."

 

******

 

The night air was cool when Harry appeared in the town square, right near the memorial statue. Almost immediately, it changed to three figures: a man and a woman, holding a baby. Harry threw off his Cloak and gazed up at the monument. He looked around. The streets were deserted, so there was no need for the Cloak anymore. He wore it only on the off chance that someone would recognize him, and he didn't want to have to explain to anyone what he was doing here.

He walked slowly down the street toward the little church, and already he was overcome with sadness. There were going to be so many events in his life that his parents would be absent from; he almost wished he still had the Resurrection Stone. But he knew he'd done the right thing when he dropped it in the Dark Forest and left it there. This was no time for sorrow, for regretting what couldn't be.

He passed through the gate into the graveyard, glancing around to make sure the attendant was nowhere in sight. He found the graves easily, even though he'd been here only once before. The wreath that Hermione had conjured was long gone, decomposed or blown away by a winter wind.

Harry stood before the stones marking the graves for a long time, just thinking. For the first time since those tragic events at Hogwarts, he thought about everything he'd been through. He thought about his life on Privet Drive, about learning who he was, even about Voldemort. But then he thought about Hermione and Ron, and mostly about Ginny.

He sighed heavily. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. _Mum, Dad,_ he thought, _there's something I need to tell you. I'm going to ask Ginny Weasley to marry me. She's a wonderful girl, and I think she loves me. I know I love her, more than I ever thought possible. I wish you could have known her. I think you'd love her as much as I do. She takes care of me, so you don't need to worry about me anymore._

Again, he stood in silence, the rustling of late summer leaves being the only sound around. At last he turned to leave, but something caught his eye—a small movement. He stared at the ground near his mother's tombstone. From out of the dirt sprouted a small stem. Before his eyes, the stem grew taller, until finally a bud formed and bloomed into a perfect white lily.

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes, turned, and vanished.

 

 

End of Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry pops the question to Ginny, who accepts - of course! But now he has to tell the Weasleys about their plans - what will Ron say?

  


This is a work of fiction, which borrows characters created and/or owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros.,  
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, Raincoast Books, and Scholastic Inc. We do not own the characters, certainly no profit  
was made from the use of them, and no harm came to them in the course of writing the story.  
We return them to their owners with thanks.

 

****  
_CHAPTER 2_  


 

When Ginny arrived home weeks after he'd decided to propose, Harry couldn't wait to see her. Now that he'd made this decision, he didn't mind the restrictions placed on their relationship, because he knew that one day soon there would be no restrictions. That is, whenever he actually got around to asking the question.

That took some thought. He considered all of the possibilities, but none seemed right. Until one day, it hit him. He knew exactly where he would ask Ginny Weasley to marry him.

The Saturday after Ginny's tour was over, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were having supper at the Burrow, as they often did on weekends. It was a warm late-August evening. Soon, Ron and George would be moving the business to Hogsmeade for the winter, Hogwarts students being their main customers.

Harry used to hate summer. Summer meant Privet Drive and being away from Hogwarts and everything he loved. Now, he loved these lazy evenings, strolling with Ginny outside, catching fireflies and lying on the grass, staring up at the stars.

Tonight, he took her hand and led her over to the garden. "Ginny," he began, "when you were away . . . I . . . it wasn't . . ." He stopped, sighing. "I really missed you."

Ginny looked at him, puzzled; why was Harry so awkward all of a sudden? "Really?" she said in a teasing tone, and she kissed him on the nose. "I never would have guessed from your letters." She smiled, and then pulled him closer to kiss him again, this time on the lips. "You know how much I missed you, I hope," she whispered.

"I do," Harry whispered back, holding her, but not trusting himself to look into her eyes. _Not now,_ he thought to himself. _Wait._ "Ginny, will you come with me somewhere tomorrow?"

Pulling away from his arms just a little, Ginny studied him seriously for a moment. Now she was really curious. "You're very mysterious tonight, aren't you? Is everything all right, Harry?"

Harry took Ginny's hands, trying his best to reassure her. "Yes, everything's great. Better than great. I just want it to be a surprise. Do you trust me?"

Ginny stroked his cheek lightly with one finger. "You know I do," she answered, smiling. "All right, it's a surprise. I'll go anywhere you want me to go. When should I be ready to leave?"

"I'll come by after lunch." He paused, taking in their surroundings, savoring holding her in his arms. "Ginny, I'm really glad you're back." Then he leaned in and kissed her slowly, very slowly.

She let herself get lost in the kiss; after a month apart, it seemed to Ginny that she couldn't get enough of the feel of Harry's lips on hers. When they finally had to part, to catch their breath, she rested her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. "Me, too. There is nowhere I'd rather be, than where I am right now." Ginny paused for a moment, then wrapped her arms around Harry a little tighter. "I wish you didn't have to go back home tonight," she whispered.

"I wish I didn't, either," Harry said. "But I don't think your mum and dad would be too happy about that." He knew that they loved him, but they loved their daughter more and would always think of her as their baby. _Don't worry, Ginny,_ he thought. _If all goes as planned tomorrow, we'll have plenty of nights together._

That thought gave him some measure of comfort, and as he said his good-bye, he held onto that thought. For after tomorrow, it would be only a matter of time before he and Ginny would be together, under the same roof, for the rest of their lives.

  
******  


  
  
Ginny leaned on the garden gate, trying not to fidget. The morning had dragged by, simply because she was waiting for Harry's arrival, after lunch. She'd tried to distract herself by helping her mother with cleaning and baking and laundry, but all she could think about was Harry's secretive request. Ginny smiled to herself as she thought about what he might have planned for her, and took a deep breath, trying to be patient. 

Fortunately for Harry, Ron usually left early to open the shop, and this morning was no different. Harry didn't want to have to dodge questions. He would tell Ron soon enough, but for now only Hermione knew that today was the day. She didn't know anything else. Harry had wanted this to be a secret for just him and Ginny, at least until he'd finally asked the question and she (hopefully) said yes.

He'd spent some time in his room, putting on one shirt, then changing into another. Despite leaving Privet Drive for good, he still wasn't used to his wealth and being able to purchase luxuries. In the past, his money was simply a means of buying treats at Hogsmeade and books for school, nothing more. A few months after moving into Grimmauld, however, Hermione insisted on taking Harry to some London shops for Muggle clothing. In the end, he found the comfort of his usual fare of T-shirts and jeans suitable.

A glance at the clock on the mantle told him he'd better get moving or he'd be late. As he headed out the door, a picture of Sirius and his father caught his eye, and he gave it a nod.

Apparition was never Harry's favorite form of travel, but it would get him to the Burrow in the shortest amount of time, and he was anxious to be on his way. In no time he was in the yard, and he spotted Ginny by the garden gate. He steeled himself, took a deep breath, and walked toward her.

Ginny knew he was there the second Harry Apparated into the yard. She turned and smiled, and as always, her heart skipped a little faster at the sight of him. "Hey, you," she called out softly as she went to meet him. As soon as he was close enough, Ginny took his hand. "Are you going to tell me now where we're going?" she asked, gently teasing him.

Harry's heart raced as Ginny's hand touched his. She looked so pretty today; not that she didn't look pretty every day, but today she positively glowed. "No," Harry teased back. "Well, actually, I can tell you that we're going to your kitchen." And he led her into the house through the back door, right into the kitchen. With a mischievous grin, he gestured toward the fireplace. "After you," he said.

Ginny stared at him. "The Floo Network? Harry, what ARE you up to?" she asked, shaking her head and laughing. "If you expect me to use Floo Powder, you're going to have to tell me where I'm going, so I can tell the fireplace!" She was _really_ curious now; this was not what she'd been expecting, at all.

"I don't have to tell you yet," he said smugly, then took her hand and pulled her inside. "Just hold onto me, and I'll do the rest."

Laughing, Ginny not only held Harry's hand but clutched at his arm as a warm breeze swirled around them.

Harry dropped the Floo powder, said three words, and they were off.

He rarely used his fame for personal gain—after defeating Voldemort, he just wanted to slip into some semblance of a normal life. But today was one of the rare times he used his name to get something he needed. He hadn't told the Ministry why he needed this particular Floo Network connection today; they were only too happy to oblige, nonetheless. And McGonagall certainly had no problem with it, although she was curious.

Now they landed with a thud, and Harry, still holding Ginny's hand, emerged into the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny looked around, completely baffled now. "Harry," she said slowly, "why are we here, at Hogwarts?"

Harry released Ginny's hand and began wandering slowly around the room. It was completely empty, but clean. Notices had yet to be tacked to the bulletin board, a warm summer breeze blew through the windows, and the only sounds coming from the grounds were birds and other animals. The professors wouldn't start arriving until this week, and the house-elves were hidden away somewhere, Kreacher having warned them to leave Master Harry be.

It had been over a year since he'd been back at Hogwarts. After the battle, he hadn't wanted to return at all, but Ginny still had her final year to finish, so he came up for her Quidditch matches and her graduation. Maybe now was the time to exorcise the painful memories with a new, happy one.

"More specifically," he responded, "the Gryffindor common room. Do remember what happened here three years ago?"

Ginny had simply watched Harry as he walked around the room; she knew he would tell her what he was up to in his own time. But when he asked her this question, her breath caught, and she looked at him with a tender, loving smile.

"I'll never forget what happened here three years ago, Harry," Ginny said softly. "It was in this room that you kissed me for the very first time. That moment will always be one of my best memories, no matter how long I live."

Harry had come full circle and now stopped and turned to her. "As it will for me," he said. "That's why I brought you here. This is where it began for us, really." Suddenly, he found it difficult to say what he wanted to say. It was becoming hard to breathe, and the words started coming out in a jumble. "Ginny, I hope by now you know how much I love you, and I would do anything for you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you so Ginny will you marry me?" He waited, chest heaving, sweat forming on his brow.

Ginny's hand came up to cover her mouth as she gasped and blinked at Harry for a moment. He'd said the words so fast, part of her brain was not sure she'd heard what she _thought_ he'd said. But her heart . . . her heart had heard every word, crystal-clear.

She stood still for a moment, staring at him, and then she started breathing normally again, and her hand came down slowly. Ginny walked over to stand in front of Harry, taking his hands in her own. With tears in her eyes, she whispered, "Yes. Yes . . . I'll marry you. Oh, Harry . . ." And she threw herself into his arms.

Harry was too shocked to react at first. Then his arms came up and he embraced Ginny. "Yes? Yes?" he asked, then picked her up, laughing, and spun her around. _She said yes!_

Not sure whether to laugh or cry, Ginny settled for hugging Harry as hard as she could. "Oh, Harry, you're such a . . . a . . . I don't know!" She did laugh then, and pulled back to look into his face. "I've loved you for years," Ginny said finally, touching his face with love and great gentleness. "Almost since the first moment I saw you. Did you _REALLY_ think I was going to say no?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Harry replied, still smiling. "After all, it took _me_ long enough to realize you were the one for me. Girls _are_ smarter than boys, aren't they?"

"I'd say so," Ginny replied, tapping his nose playfully. "I knew I wanted you to ask me to marry you _ages_ ago." She glanced down at his lips for a moment before looking back up into his eyes, feeling as if her heart was going to explode from so much happiness. "Don't you think—I mean, now that you've asked me, shouldn't you . . . kiss me or something? Just like you did, three years ago, in almost this exact spot."

Harry glanced around, half expecting the room to suddenly fill with students, just as it had been that day. "Well, I think it went something like this," he said, closing his eyes, leaning in, and pressing his lips to Ginny's.

 _For the rest of my life,_ Ginny thought to herself as her lips melted into Harry's. _For the rest of my life I'll get to do this._ She gave him all her love, every bit of her "yes" all over again in her kiss, holding him close to her, never wanting to let him go. And it was only when they both were almost out of air that Ginny finally pulled back, panting softly as she stroked her fingers through his hair.

"Harry James Potter," she whispered, "I love you. I'll love you till the day I die, and I can't wait to marry you."

Harry didn't want to think about the "till the day I die" part. He'd had enough of that for one lifetime. He'd rather think about the rest of their lives. "I love you, too, Ginny, and I can't wait to marry you. I can't wait to wake up every day next to you. I can't wait to start a family with you."

Ginny 's eyes widened, and she clutched at Harry's shoulders. "A family . . ." she said with wonder. "I hadn't really thought of that yet. I mean," she looked down at the floor and blushed, "not specifically. But yes, Harry." Ginny looked back up at him, her eyes burning with another kind of passion altogether. "I want to have children with you."

Then she smiled, and started to giggle. "But I think, before we start planning our family, we'd first better tell my parents we're getting married. Oh, Harry, I can't _wait_ to tell Mum and Dad. They love you so much—they're going to be so happy!"

"I'm not so sure of that," Harry said, half-joking. It was one thing for their youngest child to be dating him. Quite another for her to marry him. "I think also that I should tell Ron first. Right now, Hermione is the only one who knows."

"Hermione knows?" Ginny beamed. "Of course; she's always known how I feel about you, so I can imagine she knew what you were feeling, too. She's really intuitive that way, you know." Then she paused and frowned. "But Ron . . . he's still being a bit ridiculous about this, isn't he? Sometimes I could just give him a good swift . . ." Ginny grinned again, and took Harry's hand. "Can we go now, then, to tell him? I can't wait to let everyone know." She leaned in and kissed Harry, quick and hard, on the lips.

Delighted by Ginny's enthusiasm, Harry laughed, then took Ginny in his arms again. "Soon, Ginny. But I think I should be the one to break it to your brother. He still thinks of you as his little sister, and I don't think he's ever really gotten used to my dating you. As soon as I tell him, we can tell your mum and dad."

"And I still think of him as my annoying big brother," Ginny said, making a face before she snuggled into Harry's embrace. "He needs to be told he's a git every once in a while—it's good for him. And I still think I should be with you when you tell him," she said stubbornly, "but . . . if you insist, I can talk to Hermione while you face Ron. That way we'll be nearby, just in case. You know Hermione is the only one who can really handle him."

 _You've no idea,_ Harry thought. "And Ginny, before, when I said I wanted to start a family, I didn't mean right away. I don't want you to give up playing Quidditch for me. I just . . . I always imagined that if I survived . . . you know, what happened . . . that I'd want to eventually settle down and raise a family."

"Oh, Harry." Ginny shook her head, then cradled his face in her hands. "I knew you didn't mean right away. And," she stroked his cheek, "while Quidditch is important to me, it would never be more important than you—or our family." She smiled again at that thought. "We'll start our family when the time is right, and we'll both know when that time comes."

Relieved that Ginny understood and grateful for her compassion, Harry swallowed and nodded. "Yes," he said. "When we're both ready. For now . . ." he looked around, then back at Ginny, "we have this whole school to ourselves. Well, almost to ourselves. I'm sure the house-elves are around here somewhere. Why don't we go for a walk? We do have a wedding to plan."

  
******  


  
  
"Before I forget," said Ron, helping himself to another slice of the roast Kreacher had made for dinner, "George and I overheard two blokes talking about a shipment of stolen wands coming through Knockturn Alley next week."

Harry nodded, swallowing. "Thanks, I'll look into it." He glanced over at Ginny. Tonight he was going to tell Ron about the engagement, and so far Ron seemed to be in a good mood.

Ginny gave Harry an encouraging smile, and then looked down at the food she had been playing with for the last fifteen minutes. She'd never been less interested in dinner in her life. She glanced over at her brother, and tried to keep the smile on her face, despite her anxiety over how he would react to their news. _If you make Harry unhappy . . ._ she threatened him silently.

Hermione had been watching Harry and Ginny all through dinner. She hadn't had the chance to talk to either of them when she'd returned home after work, but she could tell by their faces—and their nervousness—that the question had been asked and answered. And she was quite sure the nervousness was because they were ready to tell Ron. Maybe she could help out a bit there . . .

"Look, Ron," she said, patting his hand and smiling sweetly at him. "Kreacher made chocolate gateau for pudding—your favourite!"

Ron eyed the dessert waiting at the end of the table, then Hermione, then Harry and Ginny. He put down his fork with a loud clang. "All right," he said firmly. "What's going on?"

"Who said anything was going on?" Hermione asked, but she looked nervously at Harry as she did. She didn't want to say anything that would antagonize Ron and make things worse for Harry and Ginny.

Ron was about to retort, but Harry interjected. "I have something to tell you," he blurted.

Narrowing his eyes, Ron asked, "What?"

Harry took Ginny's hand. "I was going to tell you in private, but seeing as how we're all gathered here, I might as well just tell you now."

"Tell me what?" Ron didn't bother trying to hide his irritation. He hated being the last to know anything, and he had a feeling this was one of those situations.

"Ron, as you know, Ginny and I have been dating for a while now. I love her. And I know you're probably going to hate me for this, but I've asked her to marry me and she's said yes." He said it all in one breath, and now he stared at his best friend, panting, waiting for a reaction.

There was a moment of silence. A moment that seemed to stretch into minutes, and then hours. Harry waited, the only sound his breathing.

"Well, then," Ron said, nodding. "Now can I have some cake?" he said to Hermione.

Confused, Harry looked at Hermione, then back at Ron. "That's it? You're not angry?"

Exasperated, Ron sat back. "Look, she's going to marry someone someday. Better you than some tosspot from the Chudley Cannons."

Harry blinked, turned his head to Ginny, then burst out laughing.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron, you great prat, you!" She picked up Harry's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , stood up, and whacked Ron over the head with it.

"Ow!" Ron yelped. "What'd you do that for?"

"Because you've always been such an annoying git when it came to Harry and me," she smacked him again, "talking about 'giving us permission' to be together"—* _smack_ * again—"so that Harry was sure you were going to hex him for telling you about us getting married!" * _whack_ * "And all you do is ask Hermione to pass the gateau!" She threw the paper down and sat back down beside Harry, folding her arms in front of her and huffing in exasperation. "Hermione, you're welcome to him!"

Now Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and they both burst out laughing. "Don't look at me," Harry said.

"You can have her!" Ron fired back.

"Thanks, Ron, I think I will." And he put his arms around Ginny, his fiancée, and kissed her on the cheek. Ron didn't even flinch.

Hermione shook her head, trying to look exasperated. "Oh, Ronald . . . I'm tempted to smack you myself! But I won't because I'm just too happy for Harry and Ginny!" Getting up from her seat, she launched herself at Harry and Ginny and enveloped them in an exuberant hug. "This is such wonderful news! I want to know everything! When will the wedding be? How did he ask you? Have you told your parents yet, Ginny? Can I help?"

Ginny let go of Harry and hugged her back, laughing. "You knew, you knew he was going to ask me! And you didn't say a word or drop me a hint—I can't believe it!" She let go and looked at Hermione, smiling. "But I'll forgive you—and, yes, you can help! I want you to stand up with me, of course. And wait till my mother gets into full planning mode; she'll keep both of us so busy we won't have time to think! But no, we haven't told my parents yet. That's next, right, Harry?" She turned back towards Harry, taking his hand in hers.

All eyes were on Harry. Of course they had to tell Ginny's parents, but suddenly that thought sent a chill of fear up his spine. What if they didn't approve? What if they were afraid that, since Harry's whole life had been surrounded by danger, that it wasn't yet over? But he shook those doubts from his mind. He loved Ginny. That was all that mattered. "I dunno," he said to Ginny. "What do you think?"

"I think you should tell them as soon as possible," Ron interjected, before Ginny could speak. "Mum's been wanting to adopt you since the day we met you at King's Cross."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand. "And I think that, for once, my brother is right. I want to tell them as soon as possible." She paused, then bit her lower lip as an idea came to her. "Can we go now, Harry—tonight, please?" She leaned in to hug him, and whispered in his ear, "Don't be nervous—they love you."

"Tonight?" Harry asked, panicking. "Erm . . ."

"What about my gateau?" Ron asked, now annoyed by the whole matter.

"Honestly, you two!" Hermione rolled her eyes and shook Harry's shoulder. "Of _course_ we should go tonight! Ginny is absolutely right; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will want to know at once—they'll be delighted! And we've got ever so much to plan and discuss . . ." She beamed at Ginny, and then moved around the table to put her arms around Ron, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Come on, Ron," she wheedled, "we can Apparate there in a second. I'll bet your mum will have something even better than gateau for pudding. And your dad will be sure to break out the Firewhisky for this occasion."

"Fine. I can see you're not going to leave me alone unless we go. Harry, this is all your doing."

"Mine? All I did was ask your sister to marry me."

Ginny made a disgusted noise. "I'm SO sorry that Harry's and my plans for our future are interfering with your meals, Ron." Dismissing him with a wave of her hand, she turned back to Harry. "Yes, I think we should tell them tonight. I won't be able to sleep if we don't. And . . ." she smiled at him and scratched the back of his hand, "we can come back here afterwards, and stay up late and . . . talk."

Harry would have gone along with her wishes anyway, but the fact that she threw in this bribe sold him completely. "You're on," he said emphatically, pulling her to her feet with him. Better to get this over with anyway. And if Molly and Arthur really were happy for them, then that made Harry happy. They'd suffered enough in the past. Yes, tonight was a night for good news.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Can we please go now? You two are going to start snogging any minute now."

"Oh, please," Ginny retorted. "As if you and Hermione never snogged in front of us! Let's go, Harry." She stepped away from the table and walked to the kitchen door, still holding onto his hand. Smiling back at him, Ginny said, "Side-along Apparition?"

Harry followed. Even though he wasn't crazy about Apparating, he would go anywhere with Ginny.

Hermione watched Ginny and Harry disappear up the stairs, and then turned to Ron, heaving a huge, blissful sigh. "I can't believe he finally asked her! It's _so_ romantic . . ." She grabbed Ron and started pulling him up from the table. "I don't want to miss a second of this; come on, we have to leave now! We could Apparate together, too," Hermione suggested, wrapping her arm around his and smiling up at him.

"Bloody hell," replied Ron, but with his hands thrust into his pockets, he crooked his elbow anyway for Hermione to take, and off they went.

  
******  


  
  


With a quiet _pop_ , Ginny and Harry materialized in the Burrow's front yard. Catching her breath for a moment, Ginny squeezed Harry's hand a little tighter. Now that they were here, she was feeling a little nervous, too. Not that she thought her parents would be anything but ecstatic about their news; it wasn't that. This was such an important moment in her life. One she'd been waiting for, for a long, long time. She wanted everything to be perfect. 

She turned to Harry, about to reassure him, when Hermione and Ron appeared out of nowhere, right behind them.

"Go!" Hermione waved them on with one arm while she clung to Ron with the other. "We'll be right behind you!"

Ginny laughed and turned back to Harry. "Are you ready?" she asked him quietly, slipping her arm around his waist.

"No, but I don't think I have much choice," Harry replied, glancing at Ginny and Hermione, and nodding his head at Ron. With a sigh, he allowed Ginny to lead him to the kitchen door, where the din of supper conversation could be heard.

"Have some more potatoes, Arthur. You're looking a little peaky still; I need to feed you up." Molly Weasley filled her husband's plate and then bustled over to the stove to check on her rhubarb crumble. With all the children but Ginny gone now—and as often as not, she was off somewhere, too—she could fuss over her husband to her heart's content and listen to all the news he brought home with him from the Ministry. Not that Molly really cared that much about the news, but the time alone with him was precious.

Before her husband could protest, Ron bounded through the door. "Mum, Dad. Is there any pudding left?"

Ginny followed right behind Ron, still holding Harry's hand and absolutely furious. "Ron, I am seriously going to hex you! I wanted to surprise Mum, and you've ruined it!"

Molly almost dropped the rhubarb crumble on the kitchen floor. "Ron, Ginny! What are you doing here? Has something happened, are you all right?" Then she saw Harry right behind her daughter, and Hermione as well. Her eyes flew to her clock, but not one of her family was showing as being in "Mortal Peril," so she breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to Harry. "Are you all right, Harry dear?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, slightly irritated at this turn of events. It wasn't going at all as he'd planned. Ron had gone directly for the rhubarb crumble, and now Ginny was in a foul mood. And Mrs. Weasley thought something was wrong. "Everything's fine. Ginny and I have something to tell you."

"Well, come in, Harry," Arthur said, finally getting a word in. "Have a seat."

Harry looked at Ginny and sat down at Mr. Weasley's right.

Ginny sat down beside Harry and took a deep breath. She could kick herself for letting Ron get to her; Harry was nervous enough as it was, and she had wanted to be calm and steady for him. Ginny smiled at him, and reached out to fold her hand around his.

"It's all right, Harry," she said quietly, and nodded at him in encouragement.

Molly looked at the two of them, at the way they were holding hands, and raised an eyebrow. Then she came over to the table and sat at Arthur's left, gripping her husband's hand. "Yes, Harry dear. Please, tell us."

Harry cleared his throat. He had mentally prepared a speech on the way over here, but now he couldn't remember a word. He almost felt like he was back at Hogwarts, about to take an O.W.L. This time, however, there was much more at stake than a passing mark. "Well, erm, Ginny and I were talking, and we've thought a lot about this, and we think it's time we got married." Now, in a panic, he added, the words pouring out, "I know what you're thinking, but I can assure you, I will never let anything happen to Ginny. I'll keep her safe. And I can provide for her, so she'll never want for anything." He took a deep breath and waited. Even Ron had turned around and was staring at his parents.

Molly blinked, then gasped. "Oh, Harry!" She reached across the table and covered Harry's and Ginny's hands with her own. "Ginny!" Then she looked at her husband. "Oh, Arthur! Isn't this the most WONDERFUL news?" She threw her arms around her husband's neck and burst into tears. A moment later, she was on her feet and hurrying round to the other side of the table—almost knocking Ron over on her way—where, still sobbing with happiness, she gathered Ginny and Harry into a very tight, very damp embrace.

"Mum!" Ginny unwrapped her mother's arms from around her neck. "There's no need to cry!" But she couldn't keep a huge smile from her face as she looked over at Harry.

Squished in Mrs. Weasley's arms, Harry could do nothing but allow the woman to hug him.

"Let the man breathe!" Ron exclaimed over a mouthful of crumble.

Mr. Weasley managed to extract one of Harry's hands and was now shaking it. "Congratulations, Harry! I always knew you'd make a fine son-in-law."

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, his voice muffled.

Hermione had been standing to the side, wanting to let Ginny have her moment with her parents and Harry, but now that the news was out, she approached the table, tears running down her own cheeks. "I'm so happy for you both!" Then she turned and looked at Ron, who was still shoveling down his pudding. "Oh, Ronald, how can you _eat_ at a moment like this?"

"What? We're celebrating, aren't we?"

Molly finally let Harry and Ginny loose and, after wiping her face with the corner of her apron, fixed her youngest son with a piercing glare. "Yes, we are, but you'd do well to remember this is your _younger_ sister who's getting married. By all rights, it should have been her _older_ brother to come to us with this sort of news first!" She threw a meaningful glance at Hermione, and then back at Ron.

Aghast, Ron fired back, "Charlie's still not married, and he's older than both of us!" Then he glared at Harry. "This is all your fault, you know."

"What did _I_ do?" Harry asked, but he couldn't suppress a giggle. This was why he loved the Weasleys. They treated him like one of their own, and that included the friendly jibes.

"You went and got engaged, that's what you did. Now I'll never hear the end of it."

"Sorry, Ron, I reckon you'll just have to put up with it. I'm marrying your sister, and that's that."

Ginny sent a look of disgust her brother's way, but then looked over at Hermione, who was uncharacteristically silent and turning several shades of red. She managed to catch Hermione's eye, though, and gave her a quick, encouraging wink. Maybe something else besides her own happiness would come of this, Ginny thought. Maybe Ron would finally get around to asking Hermione the same important question Harry had just asked her. _It's about bloody time._

"Too right you are," she said, putting her arms around Harry and kissing him on the cheek. "It's not our fault my brother is socially backwards, after all." Before Ron could start whining again, Ginny turned to her mother. "But never mind him. We've got a lot to talk about, Mum—you and me and Hermione. I don't want a big wedding, really, but I'd like to get married here, in the orchard, like Bill and Fleur."

"So much to do," Molly said, beaming at her daughter. "But first, I think we need to _really_ celebrate. Arthur dear, go get the Firewhisky, I'll get the glasses, and we'll drink a toast to the happy couple!" She gave both Ginny and Harry a big, sloppy kiss and hurried off to find her best glasses, all a-flutter with excitement.

"To Harry and Ginny," Arthur said a few minutes later. He stood and lifted his glass. "May you be as happy as we are," he added, gesturing to Molly, "and may you give us many grandchildren." He winked at Harry, then drank.

Harry knew his cheeks were red, but he smiled nervously and drank. It was all starting to hit him how real this was. He and Ginny were going to get married. And that fact was made even more evident when Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley huddled together to begin planning, leaving Ron, Harry, and Mr. Weasley to talk Ministry business and Quidditch.

The hour grew late, and he noticed Mr. Weasley yawning more frequently. He walked over to where the girls were chattering and leaned over Hermione. "I think we should be going. Mr. Weasley's about to fall asleep in his goblet."

Hermione started and looked over her shoulder at him. She and Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had been so busy discussing food and dresses and all the trappings of a wedding, they'd lost track of time. "Yes, you're right, Harry." She got up from her seat at the table and went over to Ron, who was looking decidedly sleepy, too. "Come on, Ron," she said, laying her hand on his arm. "It's time to go home."

Ginny looked at Harry, remembering her promise to him. Turning to her mother and chewing on her lip, Ginny said, "Mum, I'm going to go back with them, to Grimmauld Place. Hermione doesn't mind sharing her room with me," she continued very pointedly, "and . . . Harry and I would like a little time to ourselves, to talk."

Harry glanced at Ginny, blushing again. He had a feeling they wouldn't be talking much. "Erm, don't worry, Mrs. Weasley, we won't be up late."

Molly looked first at Ginny and then at Harry, raising an eyebrow. Then she looked over at her husband, to see what he thought of this, and suddenly she remembered the nights they had snuck out to be together on the grounds at Hogwarts, the many times she had returned to her mother's house late because she and Arthur just couldn't say good night. And she smiled to herself; she trusted her daughter, and Harry, and she could not bring herself to protest against them sharing the joys of courtship now. Walking over to her husband, she put an arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

"I think that's just fine, don't you, Arthur? Remember all the time we spent together, the summer before we got married?"

Arthur's eyes had been closed, and he snorted as he came to. "What? Yes, of course, I agree completely."

Harry looked at Ginny and sniggered. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." And then he added. "For everything." _For creating such a beautiful, kind, loving daughter._

  
******  


  
  
Ginny sighed contentedly. She and Harry were in his room at Grimmauld Place, talking, kissing, talking a little more, kissing a lot more . . . Ginny couldn't remember ever being happier in her life. Her head was resting on Harry's chest and she was listening to his heart beat, and smiling, when suddenly something occurred to her. 

"Harry," she said softly, lifting her head to look at him, "you don't mind having the wedding at the Burrow, do you? I mean, there isn't someplace else you'd like to get married, is there?"

"Someplace else?" Harry was taken by surprise. He hadn't even thought about it. It just seemed natural that they would be married at the Burrow, a place where they were both happy. A place that felt like home. "No, I can't imagine getting married anywhere else." He was silent for a moment. "Well, there's always Hogwarts, but . . ." His voice trailed off.

A frown came over Ginny's face then, and the look in her eyes was fierce. "No, Harry," she said, "not there, please. It is our school, yes, but there are . . . too many sad memories there, as well. I don't want to get married there!" She did not want to say it out loud, to upset him, but her first thought on hearing his words was, _No! That's where . . . HE tried to kill you, and almost did. That's where my brother died, where we lost so many of our friends._

Ginny sighed, and tried to calm herself a little before going on. "Harry," she said softly, stroking his chin, "I think the Burrow is the best place, I really do—out in the orchard, with everyone we care about all around us. It's home, where our family is. And it is your family, too. That's the place that feels right to me."

"It feels right to me, too," he said quietly, and then he kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Besides, I've a feeling your mum won't have it any other way," he added, to lighten the mood. He was aware that Ginny knew just how painful the memories were for him still, and he loved her more for being sensitive to that.

Ginny smiled, relieved that Harry seemed to understand. "You're right there. She'd disown me if I told her I'd changed my mind about that. And let's hope she'll take me seriously, that we don't need anything really large or grand that will take months and months to plan." She kissed his nose before laying her head on his chest again. "I don't want a big wedding. I just want you."

"You don't have to worry about that, because you have me," he replied, rubbing her arm and kissing the top of her head. He sighed, content, wishing they could stay like this forever.

End of Chapter 2  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly Weasley has an heirloom from Harry's past, one she has guarded carefully for him until just this moment - and once Harry has it in his hands, he knows he must share it with Ginny, now and forever. Also, Ginny spends the night with Harry at Grimauld Place in a perfectly innocent way, but Ron is not pleased.

   
  
This is a work of fiction, which borrows characters created and/or owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros.,  
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, Raincoast Books, and Scholastic Inc. We do not own the characters, certainly no profit  
was made from the use of them, and no harm came to them in the course of writing the story.  
We return them to their owners with thanks. 

 

 

 

  
**_CHAPTER 3_**  
  
  
Molly Weasley stood on the front steps of the Burrow and stared at the spot where her husband had vanished a moment before. There were so many plans and ideas for Ginny and Harry's wedding in her head, she'd hardly slept a wink all night, and he'd listened patiently to her explain them all until the very last minute, and then had to hurry so he wouldn't be late for work.

Sighing happily, Molly looked out over the orchard, and made a mental note to tell Arthur the trees needed trimming before the happy day. Ginny had insisted that the wedding be small—which was almost impossible given their family and friends—but she understood her daughter's wishes very well. Ginny wanted to be married sooner rather than later, and Molly promised herself that she would do all she could to make Ginny's wedding day exactly what she wanted it to be. Isn't that what any mother would do for her child?

Molly's smile faded at that thought, and with another sigh, she turned back into the house and headed for her and Arthur's bedroom. Last night, once Ginny and Harry, Ron and Hermione had left and Arthur had gone to sleep, a memory had come to her amidst all the joy and plans, and it was that memory that had kept her awake as much as the happiness.

Searching about in the bottom part of a small cabinet she kept at her bedside, Molly felt her way to the very back of the drawer and finally closed her fingers over a small velvet bag. Sitting down on her bed, Molly held the bag in her closed hand for a moment, staring at it. She'd forget this treasure was there for months at a time, especially when Harry was younger, but in the last few years, it had come to the front of her mind more often. Especially when she saw Harry and Ginny together. And now, she remembered quite clearly the day she had found it.

Just before Harry and Ron's fourth year at Hogwarts, she had gone to Diagon Alley to get everyone's school supplies while they were at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry had given her the key to his vault, so she could go to Gringotts and get his money out for him; that memory was particularly precious to her, as it was the first time he had ever let her do anything for him that really felt like a mother's task . . .

  
  


    
  
_Molly looked around the vault, trying to figure out just how much Harry would need for the coming year. Suddenly, she noticed, tucked away on a tiny shelf at the back of the vault, a small velvet bag. It couldn't be money—the bag was too small to hold much—but she felt strangely drawn toward it. What if it was something Harry needed? . . ._   
  


  


_When she touched the bag, Molly felt a very strong surge of emotion, so powerful it almost brought tears to her eyes._ What could this bag possibly hold, _she wondered,_ or what spell has been cast on it? _For a moment she thought perhaps she should put it back, that it was not her place to touch it, but just as suddenly, a sense of reassurance came over her, and she smiled. Somehow, she was meant to find this treasure. She knew it._

  


This was your mother's, Harry; Hagrid saved it, the night she died, and gave it to me. I hope—as she would, I'm sure—that someday you will need it, and that someone very special will treasure it as much as she did.

  


_Puzzled, Molly reached into the bag again, pulling out a small round object, and gasped. It was a wedding ring—simple, gold, and unadorned except for the inscription on the inside. Molly squinted as she tried to read it in the vault's dim light, and then began to cry as she realised what it said._

  


_Once she got herself under control, Molly returned both parchment and ring to the bag and tucked it into a secret pocket of her handbag. "Something as precious as this," she whispered to the vault's walls, "does not belong in this cold place."_

  


  
  


  


Molly sat there, tears running down her cheeks all these years later as she looked at the ring in her hand. She had kept it safe, sometimes wondering if Harry _would_ ever need it, wondering if she should give it to him before the proper time, because it had been his mother's, and belonged to him. But her determined mother's hope had made her hold onto it, trusting that Harry would survive, and find the life filled with family and love that had been taken from him so early, so cruelly. And now that day was here.

"It's all right, Lily," she whispered to the empty room. "I'd much rather you were here, but I'll give him this, from you. And I'll take care of him for you, always. I promise you that."

  


 

  


******  


  


 

  


  
It was late when Harry arrived back at Grimmauld. Four days ago he'd been at the Burrow, telling Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that he was going to marry their daughter. But the days that followed had been busy, with a rash of break-ins in seemingly random wizard homes and Ron's suspected stolen wand tip turning into a possible lead on a smuggling ring. He'd barely had time to think about the wedding, which he and Ginny had loosely planned for early summer.

So when he saw the letter on the side table in the foyer, he was surprised. Ron and Hermione had already turned in for the night, so Harry took the letter into the parlour and settled on one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace. He read:  
  
 _Harry, dear, I hope you're well._

_I must ask you to come see me, when you can get away. There's something I need to talk to you about. And could you please not tell Ginny you're coming to the Burrow, if you don't mind? It's just between you and me . . . for now._

_Love,_  
Molly  
  
Puzzled, Harry reread the letter. Not tell Ginny? He hadn't kept secrets from her for a long time, not since before the battle at Hogwarts. After that, there had been no reason for secrets. But he would do as Mrs. Weasley wished. She must have her reasons. And soon he would find out what they were.

Again, the next few days had Harry occupied with one crisis or another, and it wasn't until the following week that he was able to slip away. He'd waited until Ginny and Hermione went on a shopping spree one afternoon at Diagon Alley before Apparating to the Burrow.

Molly was out in the yard in front of the Burrow, feeding the chickens, when suddenly Harry appeared, not four feet from her.

"Oh, Harry!" Startled for a moment, Molly put her hand to her chest and gasped, but she recovered quickly enough and smiled warmly at him. "How are you, dear?" she said, giving him a huge hug.

Now he was confused. All week he had imagined that Mrs. Weasley was going to reprimand him—perhaps even talk him out of marrying Ginny. After all, why would she summon him alone?

"I'm fine," Harry said evenly, then pulled away. "But before you say anything, I have to tell you that nothing you say will make me change my mind. I-I love Ginny, and I'm going to marry her."

Molly stared at him, totally perplexed. "Change your mind? My goodness, Harry, why on earth would you think I wanted you to change your mind?" She peered at him from beneath pinched brows. "Are you feeling all right, dear?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Harry replied, equally confused. What was going on? "I don't understand. Why did you want to see me, alone?"

Resisting the urge to feel his forehead—barely—Molly studied Harry for a moment, and then it dawned on her. She sighed, and felt a strong twinge of sadness in her heart. Even now, after all these years, he still feared that a summons from a parent or someone who was supposed to be a parent—she frowned as she thought of Harry's aunt and uncle—meant he was to be punished or hurt somehow.

"Harry," she said gently, "nothing has ever made me happier than to know that my daughter will be your wife. A mother wants only the best possible life for her children, and I know Ginny will have that with you." Molly paused, smiled at him, and then reached out to stroke his cheek. "I wanted to see you alone because I have something very special to share with you. I'm certain you will want to tell Ginny about it after, but this moment . . . well, this moment has to be just for you and me. Come into the house with me," she said, turning as she spoke and heading for the front door.

There had been so many unexpected turns in Harry's life, so many magical events both good and bad, that Harry wasn't sure what to expect. From Mrs. Weasley's tone, Harry inferred that what she was about to tell him wasn't going to be a bad thing, but he had no idea what she could want to share with him that she needed to see him alone. He wondered if this was some sort of wizard tradition, that she was going to impart some information to him that he needed to know for the wedding. Perhaps it was a spell he had to learn. But then, he thought back to Bill and Fleur's wedding, and that hadn't seemed all that different from a Muggle wedding.

"Sit down, please, Harry," Molly said as they entered the kitchen. She pulled her wand out of an apron pocket, waved it at one of the cupboards, and a glass floated out and onto the table in front of Harry, filling with pumpkin juice as it landed. "I need to get something from upstairs, it will just take a moment," she continued as she hurried up the stairs.

Harry stared at the glass in front of him, but he didn't drink. _What was going on?_ he wondered silently. Why did Mrs. Weasley want to see him? Oh no, he thought, maybe she wanted him to wear some old dress robes that have been in her family for generations. His stomach sank at the thought, and he tried to come up with a reason to refuse them.

When Molly came back down the stairs, she saw the apprehensive look on Harry's face, and sighed again. Sitting down opposite him, Molly gently placed the small velvet bag on the table, and then took one of his hands in hers. "Harry," she said quietly, "I hope you will forgive me for holding onto this all these years, but I was only trying to do what I thought . . ." She paused and took a deep breath. "What I thought your mother would have wanted." Molly picked up the velvet bag again, in her other hand. "This belonged to her."

Eyes wide, Harry looked from the bag to Mrs. Weasley's face and back again. This wasn't about dress robes. It wasn't about some new spell he was to learn. This was about his mother somehow, but Harry still didn't understand.

Harry held out his hand. The bag was slightly weathered. He had never seen it before; he had a feeling the reason was that it held something from before his time. Before he was born. He let go of Mrs. Weasley's hand, and before opening the drawstring pouch, he looked up into her eyes, hoping for reassurance.

"It's all right, Harry," Molly said, nodding at him with an encouraging smile. "There's a note inside that explains—well, as much as anyone could explain. I found this, in your vault, just before your fourth year at Hogwarts. And I . . . I promised your mother that I would protect it and keep it for you, until it was the proper time for you to have it. And that time," she said, tears coming to her eyes at last, "has come. Go ahead, Harry dear. Open it."

Harry was about to respond, but he stopped himself. Instead, he tipped the bag over and watched as the small gold band fell out onto his palm. It was just a simple ring, with no ornamentation. He picked it up with his other hand and held it before his eyes. Then he noticed the sliver of paper sticking out of the bag. He pulled the parchment free and read the words. Then reread them. Finally, after minutes had passed without spoken words, he said, "This was my mother's ring. Her wedding ring."

Tears now running down her cheeks, Molly nodded. "I have to admit, Harry, there were times when I thought this day wouldn't come—the war took so much from all our lives. I feared that . . ." she paused, steeling herself, "that you wouldn't survive. My Fred didn't." She shut her eyes tight for a minute before she could go on. "I wondered if I shouldn't have given it to you earlier . . . but I'm so glad now that I didn't." She smiled through her tears, and patted his hand.

Tears welled in Harry's eyes, and he fought to hold them back. He didn't want to cry, not now, not in front of Mrs. Weasley, who had suffered her own loss. "I-I don't know what to say. I don't know what I'm supposed to—" Something caught his eye. Something inside the band of gold. Writing. The ring was inscribed. He tilted it to the light streaming in through the kitchen windows. Then he saw three words, in an elegant script. Three simple words: _Love beyond magic._

Harry choked back a sob. For when he read the words, he felt it. Just a small vibration, but it was there, and it was coming from the ring. Somehow, he knew, he just knew, that it was his mother. Some piece of her was on this ring, like a shield. Perhaps it was the same thing that had saved him all these years, the same thing that had eventually saved all of them.

Love beyond magic. It was what his father must have felt for his mother. A love that wasn't something that could be conjured, like a spell. A love that no spell could break—not even death.

Harry closed his hand over the ring and shut his eyes. He could see his mother; he could almost feel her.

"I wasn't lucky enough to have known your parents," Molly said quietly, "but those who did have told me how deeply they loved each other—and you. I know, as a mother, though, how happy she would be to know that you had found someone to love, someone who would make you as happy as your father made her."

Opening his eyes suddenly, Harry stood up, still clutching the ring. "I have to go," he said quickly. He snatched up the velvet pouch and the letter.

Molly smiled sadly. She'd been certain, as wonderful as it was for Harry to have something of his mother's, that the reality of holding her ring in his hand would be overwhelming, almost too much for him to take in. She wanted so badly to hug him, to comfort him, but knew it would be the wrong thing to do just now.

"Go then, Harry," she said simply. "It's all right, dear."

Harry started to leave, then turned back. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything." Before Mrs. Weasley could answer, he flew out the door and Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

As soon as he was inside, Harry went straight to his room, not bothering to see if Ron or Hermione were home. He threw himself on the bed and opened his fist and held the ring up to the light, turning it over and over in his fingers. All those years, this ring was sitting in his vault at Gringotts, and then it fell into Mrs. Weasley's possession. This piece of his parents. This piece of his mother and father. For a moment he was angry. All those years he'd needed some measure of comfort, and here it was. Evidence of his parents' love.

But then he thought about why Mrs. Weasley took it, and why she kept it. This ring was a symbol of love. The love his father felt for his mother. And his mother had wanted him, Harry, to have it someday. She'd wanted him to pass it on to his wife. And then maybe, if he was lucky and had children, his son would pass it on to his wife. And so the love would be passed on through the generations.

He sighed. Mrs. Weasley had kept the ring for him in the hope that someday Harry would find someone special, someone to love. And he did love Ginny—he hoped he loved her as much as his dad had loved his mum. But the thought of giving away this single possession, this one thing from his past—he would have to think about that.

  


 

  


******  


  


 

  


  
Ginny entered the hallway at Grimmauld Place with Hermione right behind. Talking and laughing excitedly, they had just spent a wonderful afternoon in Diagon Alley, talking to a friend of Madame Malkin's who specialised in wedding dresses. There was still loads of time before the wedding—she and Harry had decided on June, and it was only just September—but it was good to have an idea of what she wanted and what was available, so she could tell her mum. Who would no doubt have ideas and suggestions of her own.

They went down to the kitchen, where Kreacher was preparing dinner; he acted as if he could neither hear nor see them. Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione; the house-elf seemed to dislike her almost more than anyone else, and the only reason Ginny could find for this was that he knew how important she was to Harry, and he was jealous.

"I wonder, Hermione," she said, in quite a loud voice, "if Harry is home yet."

"I don't know, Ginny," Hermione answered, in an equally loud voice, but before she could say anything else, Kreacher's gravelly voice interrupted.

"Master Harry is in his room," the house-elf said emphatically. "Master Harry does not want to be disturbed. He went straight to his room and did not even greet Kreacher when he returned home today, so Kreacher knows he does not want company." He glared at Ginny and returned to his cooking.

Ginny stared at him, and then turned to Hermione, all trace of humour gone from her voice. "I'm going up to check on him," she said, and left the kitchen at once, oblivious to Kreacher's protests.

When she reached Harry's room, the door was closed, and she could hear nothing from inside. Ginny knocked on the door gently. "Harry?" she called out. "Are you in there?"

Quickly, Harry returned the ring to the velvet pouch and scrambled from the bed. He looked around frantically for a hiding place and settled on a dresser drawer. He knew Ginny wouldn't snoop, but he didn't want her to inadvertently find it, either.

He threw open the door, still breathing hard. "Hi," he said. "How was your day?"

Ginny ignored his question. Aside from being out of breath—which was odd enough—Harry didn't look right to her. He was upset about something, and obviously didn't want her to know.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked. Ginny wanted badly to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, but she wasn't sure what was going on yet, whether that was something he needed.

"Nothing's wrong," he answered quickly. "Tell me about your day. Erm, did you find a dress?" He knew that girls liked to be asked about their clothes, and he figured this would distract Ginny from further probing.

Ginny studied him for a moment, and then put her hand on his arm. "Harry, please don't lie to me. I'd much rather you told me that you don't want to talk about something, than tell me there's nothing wrong when there obviously is. I know you too well not to see that."

The last thing Harry would ever want to do was hurt Ginny, and lying clearly fell under that category. "You're right," he said, sighing, "I can't talk about it, not right now. But Ginny, it's nothing for you to be concerned about."

"Harry, if you're upset, of course it concerns me. I love you. But it's all right if you don't want to talk about it now." Ginny reached up and caressed his cheek. "As long as you remember that, when you DO want to talk about it, you can tell me anything. All right?"

"Yes," Harry said, then leaned in to kiss her. "I love you, too. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Ginny smiled and kissed him back. "I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if I didn't know that," she said in a teasing tone. "Now, if you want to come down to the kitchen with me," Ginny took his hand and began to lead him toward the stairs, "Hermione and I can bore you with details about our visit to Diagon Alley and dresses and wedding plans. And you'll make Kreacher very happy, too—he thinks you're not talking to him."

For the next few days, Harry could think of little else but his mother's wedding ring. When Ginny wasn't around, he would take it from the velvet pouch and hold it in his hand. He could almost see his father placing it on his mother's finger.

One rainy night, Harry was in his room, looking once again at the ring, when another vision came to him. He was facing Ginny—she was wearing a beautiful white dress—and he was placing the ring on _her_ finger. It all suddenly seemed so right. He couldn't believe he'd thought for even one second that he shouldn't give her the ring that symbolized so much love. He was actually angry at himself for being so selfish.

Now Harry was faced with the dilemma of when to tell Ginny—no, not tell her, ask her. For it was her choice as to whether she would accept this heirloom.

  


 

  


******  


  


 

  


  
_Harry:_

I hope this owl finds you quickly. I've just been told that our exhibition game this Saturday has been cancelled. Are you working? If you're not, I thought maybe we could spend the day together—go out and do something, just the two of us. And I could stay the night, at Grimmauld Place.

Let me know.

_All my love,_  
Ginny  
  
Saturday. Perfect, Harry thought. He would ask her then. He scribbled his response and sent the owl back. He was almost as nervous as the day he'd proposed.

  


 

  


******  


  


 

  


  
Ginny raised her face to the sun, basking in its warmth. When she had suggested to Harry that they spend the day outdoors, she'd worried that the weather might not cooperate. But today had turned out to be one of those rare autumn days where a walk in the park was the perfect thing to do, and as they strolled through Hyde Park, hand in hand, Ginny felt blissfully content.

Hyde Park was huge, but with so many little pocket parks inside it that it felt quite cosy at times. She had smiled shyly at Harry when they passed the area known as the Nannies Lawn and saw all the children playing, and then squeezed his hand gently. Now they were in the Dell, which was so thick with trees it felt as if they were in a little forest. Ginny turned to Harry and smiled. "I'm SO glad that our game was cancelled."

"I am, too," said Harry, and truly he was. He fully supported Ginny's wish to play Quidditch, but he wanted very much to see her today, to finally show her the ring. It had been such a perfect day so far; he only hoped that he wouldn't ruin it by putting Ginny on the spot.

In this part of the park there were few people. Harry steered them toward a secluded bench and, after glancing around and seeing that they weren't being watched, he pulled out his wand and executed some of the same charms he and Hermione had used to protect their campsite from intruders the year they were on the run. Now it was just Ginny and Harry, and any Muggles who happened upon this area of the park would suddenly find themselves veering away.

"Ginny, will you come sit with me for a moment?" he asked, trying to slow his heartbeat, which had suddenly sped up.

"Of course, Harry." Ginny sat down on the bench, taking his hand and pulling him down to sit beside her. "But what did you just do?" she asked, tilting her head as she looked at him, puzzled. "Why are you casting a spell in the middle of a Muggle park?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I want to talk to you about something, and I don't want anyone to see or hear us." He looked around, then continued. "And this just seems like the perfect spot, yes?"

"The perfect spot for what, Harry?' Ginny clasped his hand in both of hers. "Is everything all right? You didn't hear something bad at work?"

"Work? No, no this has nothing to do with that. Ginny, I have something to show you, and, well . . ." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the velvet pouch. "This belonged to my mother," he said.

Ginny looked at the pouch and then back at Harry. She squeezed his hand a little tighter. Her own mother was such a strong and constant presence in her life, she couldn't imagine how difficult it was for him, with only other people's memories of his mother, and none of his own. "I . . . I didn't know you had anything of hers," Ginny said softly. "Harry, that's wonderful."

Harry let go of Ginny's hand and held the pouch in both of his. "I didn't . . . until last week. Your mother . . . well, she had something of my mum's. I didn't know about it until last week, when she showed it to me. She'd kept it for me, all these years. And now I want to show it to you." He took Ginny's hand, so small and delicate, and held it open so that the palm was facing up. Then he took the ring out of the velvet pouch and placed it on her hand. With a sigh, he said, "This was my . . . mother's wedding ring."

For a moment, Ginny simply stared at the small golden band on her palm. So many questions swirled in her head—why had _her_ mother been holding this ring, how had it been rescued on that horrible night—but one was stronger than all the rest. Keeping her eyes on the ring, Ginny said, quietly, "Harry, are you showing this to me because . . . ?" All at once her emotions overwhelmed her, so that she could not finish the question.

Harry's voice caught in his throat as he answered. "I was wondering if maybe . . . you'd wear it on our wedding day. And every day after that."

"Oh, Harry . . ." Ginny went still for a moment, and then she looked up at Harry. There were tears in her eyes as she reached out with her other hand to him. "Are you sure? To wear your mother's ring would be . . . I can't imagine a greater honour. But are you certain you don't want to keep this memory just between her and you? It's such a precious thing."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "This is something that was meant to be shared . . . with someone I love. That's what she wanted. That's why it was saved for me. I want you to have it, to wear it." He paused. "There's something else. It's inscribed."

Ginny looked at him, curious, then picked up the ring to peer at the inside. She cried out softly a moment later, and a tear suddenly escaped and rolled down her cheek. "Love beyond magic," she said as she raised her head to look at him. Ginny clutched the ring carefully in her hand and slipped her arms around Harry's neck. "Just like us," she whispered in his ear.

Ginny's breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine. He loved her so much it almost hurt. "It's how I feel about you, Ginny. I always will."

She pulled him in even tighter, feeling as if her heart was going to burst out of her chest, she loved him so much at that moment. "As I will always love you, Harry—just the same way." Ginny pulled back then, just enough to look into his eyes. "No one can see us, right?" she said, smiling, and leaned in to kiss him.

Harry responded immediately, his eyes closed and his heart pounding. Right now, they were the only two people in the world.

Ginny let her lips melt into his, closing her eyes and savouring the sweetness of being in the middle of a park, kissing the man she loved, and no one being able to see. But after a few minutes, she knew they had to be careful—invisible or not, it would be too tempting to get carried away. Regretfully, Ginny pulled back, and stroked Harry's cheek. "Here," she said softly as she handed the ring back to him. "Take this back, Harry, and hold it safely till the day when you can put it on my finger." She smiled at him. "The way I feel right now, tomorrow would still be too far away for that to happen. It's going to be hard to wait till summer, isn't it?" she asked with a sigh.

"You've no idea," Harry replied, laughing nervously, then placing the ring carefully back in the bag. For the truth was, it was becoming more and more difficult to wait on being with Ginny, in all of the ways a man should be with a woman he loved. "It couldn't arrive soon enough for me."

"All these plans and preparations," Ginny sighed again, resting her head on Harry's shoulder. "If I didn't think my mother would kill us, I'd say, let's elope." She laughed. "But I couldn't do that to her; I'm her only daughter, and this wedding, I think, is going to be as important to her as her own." Ginny paused for a moment, then said quietly, "Harry, it is all right, isn't it, for me to . . . stay the night at Grimmauld Place tonight?"

"If it's all right with your mum. You know I love having you over, don't you?"

"It's all right with my mum, because I always stay in Hermione's room," Ginny said, looking at her hands for a moment. "She doesn't know I spend half the night in your room, and I'm not going to enlighten her. That time when we can just lie in each other's arms and talk or just be quiet with each other, or . . ." She looked up at Harry, smiling and blushing.

"Soon we'll be able to spend the whole night together, and you won't ever have to leave. I can't say it doesn't bother me sometimes that we can't be together, um, in that way, but I'm willing to wait."

Ginny felt her blush grow deeper, the heat of it rising in her cheeks, but her eyes were fixed on Harry's. "I'm willing to wait, too, for . . . that. But I think about it, a lot—going to bed with you and not having to get up and leave you, ever again." Ginny took a deep breath; she wanted to kiss him again, badly, but the way this conversation was going . . . "Maybe," she whispered, rubbing the back of Harry's hand, "we should get back to our walk. Before I do something my mother would not be happy to think her daughter was doing in public, Disillusionment charms or no."

Harry raised his eyebrows, enticed by Ginny's boldness. _She really is a Gryffindor,_ he thought. "You're probably right," he said with a sigh. But he snuck in one more long, deep kiss anyway. Then he took her hand and pulled her up, and they headed back to Grimmauld Place.

  


 

  


******  


  


 

  


  
Ginny sighed contentedly and snuggled in, making herself a little more comfortable next to Harry. Their Saturday together had been as wonderful as she'd hoped for. On their way back from the park, they'd stopped at a small café, talking and planning for a bit over coffee and biscuits. By the time they got home, Kreacher had prepared an exceptionally fine dinner and Ron and Hermione had been waiting for them so they could eat.

After dinner, Ron had insisted they all play a new game he and George had developed and wanted to sell in the store. It was a very complicated version of Exploding Snap, and needed some testing still, so they had humoured Ron and played a few rounds, stopping only when one corner of the table caught fire and Kreacher had chased them from the kitchen, shrieking and carrying on about protecting Master Harry's house.

Ron and Hermione had gone off to her room after that, and Ginny and Harry had gone to his. Which was fine with Ginny; a quiet evening spent in Harry's arms, talking and laughing quietly and occasionally snogging, was the perfect end to the day. But . . . she was getting sleepy; she could not stop the huge yawn that suddenly came over her.

Harry's eyelids had grown heavy by midnight. It wasn't that he was bored. Far from it. He was so relaxed and comfortable, Ginny's head on his chest, his arms around her, listening to her talk about Quidditch and her travels, and the upcoming wedding. When she yawned, he soon followed. "I suppose," he said sleepily, "you should be getting off to Hermione's room."

" _Mmm,_ " Ginny murmured, but she did not move right away. A moment later, though, a thought occurred to her and she raised her head. "Oh, hang on. I can't." She looked at Harry, slightly distressed.

"What?" Harry asked, now alert and concerned that something was wrong. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Ginny said, quickly. "It's just . . . well, _Ron_ is in Hermione's room." She looked at Harry meaningfully.

"Oh, right. I don't suppose we should disturb them, should we? Perhaps I should sleep in the parlour then." But he didn't move.

"Ron would hex us both if I disturbed him now, the filthy hypocrite." Ginny rolled her eyes. "But . . . I don't want you to go," she said softly, wrapping her arm around him a little tighter. "Maybe . . . maybe we could stay right here? And just sleep. I mean, not . . . not anything else." Ginny could feel herself blushing, and hoped Harry would not think she was being too bold.

"Erm . . ." Harry would love nothing more than to fall asleep in Ginny's arms and to wake up to see her face in the morning. But he wasn't so sure he could just "sleep" next to her. "Well, it's not as though we won't be sleeping together—in the same bed, that is—in a matter of months. Perhaps we _should_ try it out. You know, to make sure we'll get along."

Ginny giggled. "Yes—I need to make sure you don't snore, or won't steal the blankets." Then she grew serious. "I know it's a little . . . dangerous, Harry, but . . . I trust you," she said quietly. "And I don't want to sleep in your bed alone."

Horrified at the implication that he would ever do anything unwelcome, Harry quickly responded. "Ginny, I would never do anything . . . you know that when we're both ready we'll, erm, you know . . ."

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny sat up quickly. "I didn't mean . . . I know you wouldn't ever . . ." She sighed, and shook her head. "I'm sorry. All I meant was, it will be very tempting for _BOTH_ of us, sleeping next to each other, won't it? But I know we can wait until . . . it's time." She glanced at him shyly. "And since my brother has left us very little choice, what can we do?"

"What can we do?" Harry repeated, relieved that Ginny trusted him. He smiled. "Both of us, hmm?"

Ginny felt her face grow hot, but she smiled back at him. "I told you I didn't want you to sleep in the parlour." She lay down beside him again, her head back on his shoulder.

"Do you want to know the truth? I don't either." He wrapped his arms around Ginny. "So why don't we try this, just for tonight. And if I snore," and he gave her a gentle squeeze, "you can kick me out."

  


 

  


******  


  


 

  


  
Ginny blinked as she came awake slowly. A ray of weak early morning sunshine was coming through the curtains, not even enough to see by, but enough to disturb her sleep. As she lay there quietly, the warmth of Harry's body under her outstretched arm became more and more real, and she smiled. For a moment, she'd thought she was in the middle of one of her dreams, but no—she really was lying here with Harry next to her, and they had spent the night together in his bed. Ginny sighed happily and snuggled a little closer to him.

The slight movement on the bed was what woke Harry. For a moment, he was confused. Why should something have moved in his bed? Then he remembered: He wasn't alone. That realization made him smile. Ginny was with him. Ginny had spent the night with him. They hadn't done anything—just slept. Well, they'd snogged a little . . .

That thought made him smile even more, and he was amused and pleased to find that Ginny was curled up next to him, her hand on his chest. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful. Is this what it will feel like, every morning, when they were finally married? Harry found that it felt good. Really good. In fact, it felt a little too good. He was startled to find that his mind wasn't the only thing that was awake right now. This wasn't usually a problem when he was alone, but now? With Ginny lying next to him?

He berated his body. How could it do this to him now? In a panic, his heart thrumming, he tried to think of how best to extricate himself from the bed without waking Ginny. Gently, very gently, he took her hand and slid it off his chest. If he could only get out of here before she saw . . .

"Oh, Harry, you're awake," Ginny stretched her arm out over him again, pulling him back to her side. "This is very nice, isn't it?" she murmured. "Good morning." She leaned in to kiss him.

Harry kissed her quickly then pulled back. "Erm, good morning. Um, I have to . . . use the bathroom." He rolled over away from her, frantically searching for something to cover himself. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, but he was sure she'd be able to see his . . . condition if he was facing her. His bathrobe, unfortunately, was slung over a chair in the corner.

Ginny sat up, disappointed and puzzled. "What are you looking for, Harry?"

"Um, nothing. Bathrobe. It's a bit chilly, don't you think?" He knew he'd have to do it quickly, before Ginny could see. "What time is it?" he asked, in an effort to distract her.

"I was just thinking how warm and cosy it was." Ginny reached out to tug on his arm, pulling him toward her. "Come back to bed, Harry, plea—oh!" Ginny gasped, her cheeks flushed, as she let go his arm and turned away. She knew that boys sometimes woke up . . . that way, but she'd been so sleepily content, so relaxed with him, the idea that . . . well, that Harry would be . . . "I-I-I'm sorry, Harry," she stuttered as she wriggled herself off the bed on the other side.

His face bright red, Harry scrambled out of bed, too, and raced for his bathrobe. "No," he stammered, as he struggled to get into it and tied the belt around his waist. "Don't. I—" and he ran out of the room before Ginny could respond.

Mortified, Harry fled to the bathroom down the hall to splash cold water on his face.

Ginny paced the bedroom, her hands covering her mouth as she shook her head. She hadn't meant to react that way, to make Harry feel so self-conscious; now Ginny felt terrible. She had to tell him she was sorry, that she didn't mind and she understood, really. How else SHOULD he have reacted, being in bed with her, if they loved each other? Ginny stamped her foot, angry with herself, and headed for the door, determined to go and tell Harry it was all right.

Ron was just opening the door to the bedroom, determined to get to the bathroom before the girls did, when he ran smack into his little sister. Surprised to see her coming from Harry's room, he said, "What—what are you doing here?"

Scowling at him, Ginny put her hands on her hips. "I stayed overnight, you git. I've done it before; even you should be able to remember that." She felt on the defensive already. Knowing Ron, he was probably about to go mental on them, seeing her coming out of Harry's room so early, and she knew Harry would try to bear the brunt of Ron's outrage.

It suddenly dawned on him. "Y-you stayed overnight? Here? Where'd you sleep?"

"Since you were preoccupied with your _OWN_ arrangements," she flung back at him, "I had no other choice than to sleep in Harry's room!"

"Y-you slept with Harry?" He shook his head. "No. No, I am not hearing this."

"And just what is it," Ginny retorted, eyes blazing, "that you think you're hearing? I'll thank you not to jump to conclusions, OR to judge me!" Her voice was getting louder with every word, and she bristled with indignation. "What I do or _DON'T_ do in Harry's bedroom is none of your bloody business!"

"It's bloody well my business—"

Even through the running water, Harry could hear the commotion in the hallway. He shut off the tap, dried his face, and threw open the door.

"What's all the shouting about?" He didn't have to look at Ginny to know she was fuming.

Ron glared at Harry. "Harry, I know we're mates, but this has gone too far."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You. And my sister."

"My fiancée," Harry reminded him. "And I'll thank you not to speak to her like this."

Hermione came bustling into the hallway, tightening the belt on her dressing gown. "Ronald, what are you on about?" she demanded. "This is Harry's house, and he and Ginny are—"

"I don't care WHERE we are," Ginny raged, "my brother does not run my life, I don't have to explain myself to him, and neither do you, Harry!"

Not wanting the situation to escalate, Harry put his arms around Ginny and said softly, "Ron, not that it's any of your business, but nothing happened." He was beginning to see that this current living arrangement would soon lose its novelty.

Ron's jaw clenched, but he couldn't speak. He didn't know who to be mad at, really. He still had trouble getting used to the idea of his best friend marrying his sister, and he didn't want to think about what that implied.

"I need to use the bathroom, if that's all right with everyone," he growled.

Harry stepped aside to allow Ron to pass. He rubbed Ginny's shoulders gently. "Come on, let's go see if Kreacher has started breakfast."

His erection long forgotten, Harry now began thinking of other matters. Where _were_ he and Ginny going to live after they were married?

  


  
  
End of Chapter 3

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding preparations are in full swing, Harry and Ginny give each other very special wedding gifts, the Minister for Magic gets involved in their plans . . . and so does Rita Skeeter!

This is a work of fiction, which borrows characters created and/or owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros.,  
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, Raincoast Books, and Scholastic Inc. We do not own the characters, certainly no profit  
was made from the use of them, and no harm came to them in the course of writing the story.  
We return them to their owners with thanks. 

 

 

 

  
 ** _CHAPTER 4_**  
  
  
The next few weeks brought more tension to Grimmauld Place, as Ginny's overnight stays were more frequent and Ron refused to acknowledge her. Harry was convinced that he needed to find a place for him and Ginny soon, so that by the time they were married they could move away and have some privacy.

It was near the end of October, as the air turned colder and the leaves turned gold and fell from the trees, that Harry discovered just where he and Ginny would put down their roots.

He was on his way to see Xenophilius Lovegood regarding a tip on some Dark Wizards. Xenophilius seemed to think he owed Harry after nearly betraying him a few years ago. Harry understood why he'd done it, though, and forgave him, but the man seemed to have never forgiven himself, and so he contacted Harry whenever he heard a tidbit that might be of interest to the young Auror.

The Lovegoods lived outside Ottery St. Catchpole, and it was on the outskirts of the town that Harry came upon a plot of land, surrounded by trees and out of the way of Muggle roads. It would be the perfect place to build a house. He could picture in his mind exactly how the house would look. A two-storey cottage with plenty of rooms for the children Harry hoped to have with Ginny, and land enough for Ginny to practice Quidditch without ever being seen. There was even space for a garden. And it was near enough to the Burrow that Ginny wouldn't be far from her family.

After inquiring at the Ministry, Harry learned that the land was unowned, so he quickly purchased it and set about hiring a wizard construction team to build the house.

The trick was keeping this all a secret from Ginny. He wanted to surprise her.

There was something else he wanted to do before the wedding, so the next time he was in Diagon Alley, he arranged a meeting with Bill Weasley.

 

******  


 

  
"No, Mum, I don't think we need to start making favours for the tables today. It will only take an afternoon, if we get Fleur to come help us. And it's just the beginning of December; the wedding's not till June." Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione, but gave her mother a quick hug and kiss. "Why don't we just have a cup of tea, and look at the fabrics for the dresses?"

"Oh, all right." Molly Weasley made a huffing sound, but smiled as she stroked her daughter's hair. "You're going to look absolutely beautiful in that cream-coloured lace, and Auntie Muriel's tiara will go with the dress perfectly!"

"Do I _HAVE_ to wear that thing?" Ginny groaned.

Molly gave her a stern look. "It's a family tradition. Don't let her hear you saying you don't want it, or there'll be no end to her carryings-on." She bustled off, waving her wand at the stove and setting the kettle to boil while she got out cups, milk, and sugar.

"Don't worry, Ginny," Hermione said smiling. "You'll look gorgeous in it. And besides, you know Harry thinks you're the most beautiful woman in the world, no matter what you wear," she teased.

Ginny smiled, but then a slight frown creased her forehead. "Speaking of Harry, have you noticed he's been acting rather . . . odd lately?"

Hermione looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean, odd?"

"He's up to something, I think. I've hardly seen him the last couple of weeks, and he seems to be coming home quite late at night, from what little he'll tell me."

" _Hmm_ ," Hermione thought for a moment. "It's true—there have been nights when he's come home as late as ten o'clock at night. I can barely get dinner out of Kreacher on those nights, when 'Master Harry is not dining at home tonight, Miss.'"

Ginny drummed her fingers. "At first I was afraid there was something bad happening at work, but whenever I try to get him to tell me what's going on, he gives me this very smug smile, and kisses me instead. He wouldn't be smiling like that if there was some dangerous news from the Ministry, would he?"

"No, he wouldn't," Hermione agreed, and then smiled at Ginny. "I think it would be safe to assume it has something to do with the wedding, and you're just going to have to wait."

"I suppose so." Ginny sighed. "I'll just have to be patient—not a strong point for me," she said ruefully. "I just don't want him to do something too . . . extravagant. I don't need that."

Hermione reached out to pat her hand. "Harry wants to make you happy, Ginny. Whatever he's doing, just let him get on with it. You'll find out at the proper time."

Ginny smiled softly to herself as her mother returned with the tea tray and began dishing out helpings of treacle pudding for them. Hermione was right; whatever Harry was up to, he wouldn't tell her until he was ready. And Ginny was sure she would love it, simply because it came from him.

 

******  


 

  
Christmas arrived before long, and with it, Harry's mood was lighter than ever. It would be his last Christmas as Harry Potter, orphan and The Boy Who Lived. Next year, he would be Harry Potter, husband of Ginny.

With the house finished (thanks to the labour of some Albanian trolls), it was all he could do to stop himself from taking Ginny there early. But he wanted to wait until Christmas Day, and he needed one more thing to make that happen. So one afternoon, while Ginny was busy with her mother and Hermione, no doubt making more plans for the wedding, he pulled Arthur Weasley aside. It didn't take much prodding; Mr. Weasley had been working on the item in question for over a year now, excitedly tinkering with it and having Harry test it out when the women were off at Diagon Alley.

Now, two days before Christmas, everything was ready. Harry could barely contain himself, so he focused instead on helping the girls decorate Grimmauld Place. Ginny was waving her wand at a garland when he approached her from behind. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he kissed her cheek. "Thank you for helping me," he whispered.

Ginny smiled, covering his hands with her free one and continuing to weave garland around the room. "I want this place to look as festive as possible, and for us to have the best Christmas ever," she said, and then suddenly turned to face him, letting the decorations hang limply in mid-air. "No, _next_ year will be the best Christmas ever, because I'll be here, decorating the house for my husband." She kissed him softly on the lips, and stroked his cheek.

 _Here,_ Harry thought. _Not exactly._ "Um, Ginny, I was wondering if you would come with me somewhere on Christmas Day."

"Of course I would," Ginny said as she ran her fingers through his hair. "But don't forget that Mum and Dad will be expecting us at the Burrow for pretty much the whole day. Mum would be very disappointed if we left too early."

"Don't worry, we won't be gone long. I know how your mum can be," he said with a grin. "But there's something I want to show you."

"Does this have anything to do with the 'secret project' you've been so annoyingly smug about all fall?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It might," Harry said, just as smugly, pulling Ginny close and pressing his lips against hers.

When the kiss finally ended, some moments later, Ginny was still not to be distracted. "I know you've been up to something; I just hope it's not too . . ." She paused and sighed. "Harry, I don't want anything but you. And I don't want you spending too much money on something I don't really need. Promise me you haven't."

Money was relative, wasn't it? He had Galleons to spare, so all things considered, he really hadn't spent much money. And this was for both of them, wasn't it? For their future? For their family? "I promise," he replied.

 

******  


 

  
It was one of the best Christmases Harry had ever experienced. Here he was, Christmas afternoon in the Weasleys' parlour, surrounded by his friends and surrogate family. There was still a level of sadness, as Fred was remembered, but in spite of past tragedy, holiday cheer was in abundance. As usual, Mrs. Weasley had hand-knitted sweaters for all the "children," and Harry now proudly wore his. Ron begrudgingly wore his, grumbling about yet another maroon sweater with his initial on it.

Everyone indulged a little too much in Mrs. Weasley's secret-recipe eggnog, and while the family was sated, Harry took the opportunity to steal Ginny away. He pulled Mr. Weasley aside.

"Is it ready?" he asked.

"Running like a brand-new Firebolt," Mr. Weasley replied, and handed Harry the keys. "Don't worry about Mrs. Weasley. She won't even notice you're gone." And with a wink, he returned to the festivities.

Harry grabbed Ginny's hand before anyone _did_ notice and led her into the kitchen. "Ginny, I have something I want to show you," he said, "but you'll need your coat. I'll wait here."

Ginny stared at him for a moment, a curious smile on her face. "A coat? Harry, where are we— Oh, I know you won't tell me," she said in exasperation. "All right then, give me a minute." She hurried to the hall closet and grabbed her coat, closing the door quietly so her mother wouldn't hear them leave. She came back to stand in front of Harry as she buttoned it, saying, "All right—let's go. I can't wait to _finally_ see what you've been up to."

Harry took her hand and led her outside, to the shed behind the house. When he threw open the doors, there stood Sirius Black's old motorcycle, only now it was clean and shiny, Mr. Weasley having spent months working on it so that it was it in top flying condition. Harry hadn't told him what he needed it for; he wanted Ginny to be the first to see. It was, after all, Ginny's present.

Harry had ridden the bike only a few times since he'd been freed from the Dursleys on it. It carried so many dark memories, but Harry knew that Sirius would want him to ride it. He'd left it to him, and Harry could only imagine the mischief Sirius and his father had gotten into, riding this thing; he was certain Sirius would want the same of him.

"We're going to take a little ride," Harry said, pushing the bike out of the shed and onto the snow-covered lawn.

Looking askance at the motorbike, Ginny did not step forward. "Are you sure we can't just Apparate, Harry?" she said nervously. "I'm not sure I trust my father's tinkering enough to get on that thing."

Harry took Ginny's hand again. "Do you really think I'd let anything happen to you? Don't worry, I've tested it out." He straddled the bike, then said, "Go on, climb on."

Ginny was still a little skeptical, but of course, since she did trust Harry, she climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist very tightly and resting her cheek against his back. "Okay. I'm hoping this will be a short trip, but I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Hold on tight, okay?" Harry said, grinning. He couldn't wait to see Ginny's face when she saw where he was taking her. "We'll be there soon." He put the key in the ignition and revved the engine. It came to life immediately. He steered the bike toward the dirt road that led up to the Burrow, and then he let it fly. Literally. Within seconds they were off the ground and in the air. Harry quickly pushed the button that would render them invisible, pleased to see, as Mr. Weasley had promised, that it worked.

Riding with Ginny, Harry now understood why Sirius had loved this bike. There was this incredible sense of freedom, and also the sense that they were somehow doing something wrong.

They sailed over the countryside toward Ottery St. Catchpole, and soon were on the far side of the village. Harry touched down with ease on another secluded dirt road and slowed down. They came to a stop near a copse of trees.

"Wow!" Ginny was laughing and just a little breathless. "Okay, that was amazing! I'm sorry I doubted you." She gave him a squeeze and then looked around. "This is what you wanted to show me, Harry?"

"No, not quite. Hop off so I can hide the bike in the trees."

Ginny dismounted and continued to study the countryside around her while Harry found a hiding spot for the motorbike. When he came back to her, she pretended to frown at him. "Are you going to keep me waiting much longer? I think you're enjoying this far too much." She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. "Come on—what are we here for?"

Harry threw an arm around her and started to steer her toward the dirt road. "You'll know in just a few minutes," he said, enjoying every minute of Ginny's curiosity. The road led into the trees, and soon they were at a clearing. And in the middle of the clearing stood the house. "Well," Harry said, gesturing toward the building. "Here we are."

Ginny looked around the clearing and at the house, her mouth slightly open, confused but excited. In the middle of this shelter of trees, was the most beautiful little cottage she had ever seen. Two storeys high, the house was white with brown trim and green shutters, and even though it was obviously new, Ginny thought it had a feeling about it of . . .

"Home," she breathed. "Oh, Harry!" Ginny turned to him, almost afraid to ask, she had already fallen that much in love with the house. "Is this . . . is it—"

"Home. Our home," he said, without hesitation. "Come, see the inside." He pulled her along the stone walkway to the front door, then pointed his wand at the door and it opened.

Ginny was still staring at the outside of the house in wonder as the door sprang open. "I can't believe you . . . built this, for us! And I never had an _inkling_ of what you were up to! Oh, Harry . . ." She threw her arms around his neck. "This is the most beautiful house in the world."

"It's yours, Ginny. I built it for you."

"And I can feel your love, in every stone, every brick, every inch of it." Ginny pulled back to look at Harry, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. "That's how I knew it was home." She kissed him tenderly. "Our home . . . and we'll be happy here for the rest of our lives, Harry."

Harry reached out and wiped a tear from Ginny's cheek. "I like the sound of that." He looked around the empty foyer. The interior was lit with sunlight streaming through the windows. "Let me give you a tour." He took Ginny by the hand through each room, pointing out different features like fireplaces. When they reached the master bedroom on the second floor, Harry turned to her. "And this will be our room."

"Our room," Ginny echoed. She walked around it slowly, her eyes taking in every detail as she imagined what it would look like once they moved in. "I like the sound of that, too." Ginny returned to Harry and slipped her arms around his waist, laid her head on his shoulder. "You couldn't have given me anything more wonderful than this, Harry. Thank you." She lifted her head so she could look into his eyes. "I love you, Harry Potter."

"I love you, Ginny Weasley." He leaned down and kissed her, a slow, gentle, loving kiss. He pulled back and said, "And since we're going to be married, there's one more thing I want to give you," and withdrew from his jacket pocket a small key.

"More surprises?" Ginny said, smiling. "If that's the key to your heart, I thought I already had that."

"You had that a long time ago. No, this is the key to my vault at Gringotts. We're going to be married, so what's mine is yours."

Speechless, Ginny stared first at the key, then at him. "Harry," she said finally, her voice quiet, "I wouldn't care if you didn't have a Knut to your name, you do know that, right? And as beautiful as this house is, I would give it up in a second if you weren't in it." She reached up to touch his face. "You don't need to give me that, not yet."

Harry closed his hands around Ginny's and pressed the key into her palm. "I know I don't. I _want_ you to have it. And I know you don't care. But if you're going to be my wife, you're going to have to get used to the fact that everything I have is yours now, too. This house, everything. Because without you, none of it means anything to me."

"As long as I'm sure you know what really matters to me,"—Ginny leaned in to kiss him again—"I'll take the key. And promise you that this house will always be full of love."

Glancing around at the spacious but empty bedroom, Harry replied, "Well, once we're married, I can assure you that this house will be positively filled with love." Then he added, seriously, "And hopefully, one day, loads of children."

Ginny smiled shyly at him, and nodded. "As many as we can manage; I'll do my best." She laughed quietly, and then said, "Loads of children will make my mother happy, too. And speaking of my mother, I suppose we should be headed back to the Burrow soon, before she gets worried." Ginny looked around the room again and sighed happily. "I don't want to leave just yet, though."

Harry took her hand and walked her through the upstairs. "We'll come back as often as you like. After all, _you_ have to decorate it."

"Oh, my." Ginny looked around, feeling a little overwhelmed. "The whole house? I've never had to do anything like that before. But," she turned to Harry, "you will do it with me? I want the house to be ours, to look the way WE want it."

"No way. You know boys are rubbish at this sort of thing. No, this is all yours, Ginny." He grinned at her, then stroked her long, red hair. "I'll love whatever you do with it."

Ginny shook her head and grinned. "I'm sure you wouldn't be rubbish, but thank you for trusting it to me. It _WILL_ be fun," she admitted. "And I'll ask Mum and Hermione to help me—oh!" She grabbed Harry's coat sleeves and bounced up and down a little. "Can we go back and tell them now, Harry, please? Can we? I can't wait to see Mum and Dad's faces when they find out we'll be living so close to them!"

"Yes, we can go now," Harry said with a groan. He wished they could stay longer, but he knew in a matter of months they would be living here, so it was with the comfort of that thought that he put his arms around Ginny and led her outside and to the motorcycle, and they flew back to the Burrow.

 

******  


 

  
Ginny stood in the middle of the living room, looking around with a sigh and a smile. It still amazed her, at certain moments, that this was their house, that Harry had built it for them, and in four more months they would be living here, finally husband and wife. June never seemed so far away as when she was in this house, dreaming and preparing for what was to come.

She could hear her mother, Hermione, and Fleur talking in the kitchen; they were probably washing and putting away her new dishes. Ginny had just supervised the positioning of a new sofa in the living room, the delivery wizards having just left. It was all coming together; by June, the house would be perfect.

Moving to the paned glass doors that led out to the back yard, Ginny looked outside. It was still so cold and rainy now, in February, but this summer, she would have to see what she could do about a garden. She didn't know anything about gardens, but her mother would surely help her.

As she leaned against the door, staring into the woods at the edge of their yard, Ginny saw something that made her straighten up and breathe in sharply. For weeks now, she had been searching and wracking her brain for just the right gift for Harry. Not really a wedding gift so much as something that would . . . complete this house, make it more a home than any amount of furniture and dishes could. And now she knew what that gift had to be.

Ginny turned quickly and headed for the front door, calling out toward the kitchen as she went. "Mum, I have to go back to Diagon Alley for something—won't be gone long!"

 

******  


 

  
"You're not the only one who can arrange surprises, you know!"

Ginny pulled on Harry's arm, urging him to follow her into their house. It had been difficult, given his work schedule, to get him there at just the right time, but at last, two days after she had found just what she wanted in Diagon Alley, she'd managed it.

"I have something for you, and I can only give it to you here," she told him, smiling back at him as they walked through the front door.

Harry peered around curiously, a smile playing on his lips. He noticed that the house was coming along nicely. Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione had obviously been working very hard, painting the walls, and hanging curtains. And there was already a scattering of furniture. But nothing that looked like a surprise. "And just what would that be, hmm?" he asked, figuring that Ginny just wanted to get him alone so that they could snog.

Ginny looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I know what you're thinking, and that's NOT the surprise, silly. Although . . . we might take advantage of a little time alone while we're here," she said, pretending to consider the idea carefully. Then she smiled at him again. "I wanted to come here because this gift has to do with making this house a home. And as it's OUR home, I wanted it to be just us two here, when you see it for the first time."

In truth, Ginny was a bit nervous; there was a slight chance that Harry might not be . . . comfortable, at first, with what she had planned. But she was going to trust her instincts, and they told her that she was doing the right thing, out of her love for him.

Now Harry was really curious. Maybe Ginny had bought a new bed. He glanced toward the stairs. "Well, you've certainly got my curiosity. Where is it?"

She beckoned him to follow her, and headed for the glass doors at the back of the house. Once they were just outside the house, Ginny stopped and turned to him. "Every family needs one, Harry," she said quietly. "I . . . I know you still miss her, but I think she wouldn't want you to be alone forever." She took his hand and squeezed it, then turned in the direction of the woods behind the house and whistled softly. A moment later, a large tawny owl flew out of the trees and headed towards them.

Harry's mouth dropped open as the bird swooped down in his direction. Instinctively, he held up his arm and the owl landed on it, as though he'd done it a hundred times before. For a moment, Harry was speechless. His eyes filled with tears, but he quickly blinked them away. He'd thought about Hedwig since that terrible night, when she was killed, but every time he did, his heart broke. The thought of replacing her hadn't occurred to him. And he knew that wasn't what this was about. He knew that Ginny was aware of what Hedwig meant to him. He also knew that with every loss you suffered, you had to move on. He had a feeling this was Ginny's way of saying it was time to move forward.

Finally, he looked from the owl to Ginny. "W-what's his name?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Ginny said gently, a single tear running down her cheek as she watched him. "I thought maybe you'd want to name him."

Harry stared at the large bird. He was extraordinary, with chocolate and tan feathers and large golden eyes. Harry was already taken with him. He reached out to stroke his feathers, and the owl nibbled playfully on his fingers. "I don't know what to say," he said, after a few minutes. "I never thought I'd be ready for a new owl. But he's beautiful."

 _The owl isn't the only thing that's beautiful,_ Ginny thought, looking at Harry's face as he stroked the bird. "I don't know why, Harry," she said, sighing contentedly, "but it just hit me the other day, that this was the right thing for me to give you. And that it was the right time."

Harry raised his arm and watched as the owl soared through the air and landed on the branch of a nearby tree. Then he turned to face Ginny. "I don't know what to say. I didn't think I'd ever want another owl, but you're right: it's time. This is our house, and we'll be starting a new life together." He took Ginny's hands and said, "Thank you." And then he leaned in and kissed her, all sadness forgotten.

 

******  


 

  
Harry was perusing some maps in Auror Headquarters at the Ministry when the interoffice memo flew in and landed on his desk. Figuring it was a lunch invitation from Arthur Weasley, Harry leaned back in his chair and unfolded the note. His pulse quickened. It wasn't Mr. Weasley after all. It was from Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic himself. What on earth did the Minister want with him? Was it about a case he was working on?

Harry folded the note and put it in the pocket of his robes. As he started down the hall and toward the elevators, he pondered all of the possibilities.

In the elevator several people nodded hello and offered their congratulations. It had been months since he'd proposed to Ginny, but word had traveled fast. First, Diagon Alley (presumably through Ron) and then the Ministry. Harry was beginning to think they didn't have anything more exciting to talk about.

Minutes later, Harry arrived at Kingsley's office, where his secretary instructed him to enter. He opened the door slowly, prepared to answer any questions the Minister would throw at him. "Sir," he said, "you wanted to see me?"

Shacklebolt looked up from the stack of paper in front of him and beamed when he saw who it was. "Harry!" he said warmly. "Yes, come in, sit down, please." He gestured towards a chair that faced his desk. "I want to talk to you about something, and I've been putting it off long enough, I think."

 _Uh-oh, this can't be good,_ thought Harry as he sat. "Sir, is something wrong?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh, no, no, nothing wrong," Shacklebolt chuckled. He waved his wand and two steaming cups of richly spiced tea appeared, one of which he handed to Harry. "No, I just wonder if I'm not being presumptuous, but . . . only one way to find out, I suppose." He smiled at Harry. "Now, you know how happy I am for you, regarding your upcoming marriage, don't you?"

"Um, yes, sir." Harry had never actually had a conversation about it with the Minister, so he was truly puzzled.

Shacklebolt studied the young man in front of him for a moment. "Harry," he said quietly, "everyone who cares about you—and I count myself amongst that number—is happy for you. You've given so much, sacrificed so much for our world, you _deserve_ some happiness of your own. And what I want to ask you is . . ." he looked down at his cup, not sure how to phrase his request, "well, I would like to do my part to make sure the day is everything it should be."

Harry was never comfortable with attention before the battle at Hogwarts, and now was no different. After it was over, he just wanted a "normal" life. But everywhere he went, people would stare or come up to him and shake his hand. He couldn't imagine what Shacklebolt wanted. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir. Ginny Weasley and I have been planning it for months. So far, everything seems to be going well."

Putting down his cup of tea, Shacklebolt sighed heavily. "I don't mean to beat around the bush, Harry. I also don't want to presume, as I said. You may already have other arrangements. But . . . I'll just come out with it then, shall I? Harry, I would consider it an incredible honour if you would allow me to officiate at your marriage. To perform the ceremony in my capacity as Minister for Magic." He smiled at Harry again, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Would you and Miss Weasley be willing to indulge me by granting that honour?"

This was not at all what Harry had expected when he was summoned to the Minister's office. So he was completely shocked at hearing what the man was offering. The Minister for Magic did not perform just any wedding ceremony. Usually you had to be a high-level member of the Ministry of Magic or someone of extreme importance in the wizarding community. "Y-you want to officiate . . . at my wedding?"

Shacklebolt tried to hide his smile at Harry's astonishment. "Yes, I do. I'd insist, except that would be rude." Then he did smile; patting Harry on the shoulder, he withdrew his arm and sat back in his chair. "I know I'm asking a lot, but it would make me very happy, and proud, to do this for you, Harry. To feel I'd been a part of your greatest happiness, after all the sorrows we've shared."

Harry thought about that. This wasn't just about him and Ginny—it was about everyone who'd been there that day. Everyone who'd fought and lost someone. "I'd be honoured, sir," he said quietly, then added quickly, "We both would." He hoped Ginny would understand his making this decision for both of them, but really, what could he say? It really was an honour to have the Minister himself perform a wedding ceremony. He didn't do it for just anyone.

"Thank you, Harry. You don't know what a great gift you've given _me_ , truly." Shacklebolt leaned forward, his face now serious. "And now, I'll presume a bit more in offering you some advice, and my assistance—if need be."

"Erm, thank you, sir." Harry could read between the lines enough to know what the man was implying. Without a father, it seemed that every adult male was attempting to fill the role for his impending nuptials. He rose, feeling he'd taken up enough of the Minister's time. "This really is a great honour. I know that Ginny and her family will be thrilled."

The Minister shook his head. "No, Harry—you misunderstand me, I see. Let me explain. I know you don't want to be considered as such, but you are a rather . . . singular person in the wizarding world. A wedding should be a private joy, one to be shared with family and friends, but there are those who will not respect your privacy, for a . . . variety of motives. Aside from the honour of participating, as your friend, I am hoping that the presence of the Ministry will discourage any . . . inappropriate behaviour."

Harry hadn't actually thought about what a circus his wedding could turn into until now. But the Minister was right—his presence _could_ prevent "undesirables" from trying to attend. "I appreciate that, sir. I suppose if I had an Invisibility Cloak large enough, I could just drape it over the whole wedding party," he joked. Then he said seriously, "Thank you, again, for everything."

"My pleasure." Shacklebolt stood and offered his hand to Harry, beaming at him once again. "Now, I'm sure you can fill me in on all the details closer to the time, yes? In the meantime, I am certain you're anxious to get back to work. Have you heard about that disturbing incident in Knockturn Alley last night? Shocking, really . . ."

Shaking his head, Shacklebolt escorted Harry from his office as he related the details of a new shop in the dodgy section of Diagon Alley, which the Ministry was investigating.

 

******  


 

  
Ginny returned to the kitchen table, giving Kreacher a wide berth, four bottles of Butterbeer clutched in her hands. She had just arrived at Grimmauld Place twenty minutes ago, fresh from Quidditch practice with her team, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry had come home shortly after that. Now they were all sitting in the kitchen, waiting on Kreacher's word that dinner was ready.

As she sat down at the table, Ginny leaned in and kissed Harry on the cheek. "How was your day, Harry?"

"Um, it was rather interesting," he said cryptically, taking one of the bottles. He'd been wondering all day how to broach the subject, and here was the perfect opening. "Kingsley Shacklebolt wanted to see me."

Ginny gripped his arm, but tried to keep her voice calm. "What did he want to see you about? Everything is . . . I mean, there's nothing bad going on, is there?"

"Oh, no," Hermione said quickly. "We'd have heard something in my office if there was, I'm sure. You know Harry is the best young Auror at the Ministry, Ginny; Shacklebolt probably wanted to give him a commendation or something. Is that it, Harry?" She turned to smile hopefully at him.

Harry took a sip of his drink and shook his head. "Um, no, not exactly," he replied. "He wants to perform our wedding ceremony."

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "Blimey, Harry, was he serious?"

"Yes, he was dead serious. He even asked permission."

Ron stared, open-mouthed. "Harry, what did you say?"

"I said yes, of course." He turned to Ginny. "I hope that's all right. We never really talked about it, after all."

Ginny had always thought highly of Kingsley Shacklebolt, mainly because her parents did but also because he had always seemed to genuinely care about Harry. She took Harry's hand and squeezed it gently, sighing in relief. "That's fine with me—but _why_ does he want to do that?"

"I don't know, really. He said something about how the Ministry's presence will keep away those we haven't invited from coming anyway."

"That makes sense, Harry," chimed in Ron. "After all, your wedding is the most talked-about event in Diagon Alley."

"That's because you and George won't stop talking about it," Ginny said with a raised eyebrow. "Really, you'd think there was nothing else going on in the world." She turned to Harry with a worried look. "I'm certainly happy to have Shacklebolt marry us, but do you think he's right, about people barging their way in? I want a quiet, simple ceremony, not a free-for-all."

"I want that, too. I just want the day to be special, for you."

"I want it to be special for BOTH of us," Ginny said stubbornly. "If having the Minister for Magic there will help us keep it special, and simple, then I'm fine with it." She paused and gave Harry a wry little smile "Between him and my mother, I think we'll be able to handle any gate-crashers. Can't you just see her going for someone who tried to get in without an invitation?" Ginny gave a mock shudder.

"He'd be sneezing from a place you don't ordinarily sneeze from," said Ron.

Harry laughed. It was true. No one would get past Mrs. Weasley. But still, it couldn't hurt to have the Minister himself there. "So you don't mind?" he asked Ginny.

"No, I definitely do not mind, especially if it makes you happy and will help make our wedding day perfect," Ginny assured him as she leaned in to give him a short but sweet kiss.

Blushing, Harry said, "Then it's settled. And that should put an end to any headline-making news, yes?"

Unfortunately for Harry and Ginny, that was not to be the last.

 

******  


 

  
Rita Skeeter breezed through the great hall of the Ministry of Magic, blithely ignoring the protests of the security wizard who wanted to check her wand. "Check my wand, indeed," she snorted. "Don't you know who I am?" she threw over her shoulder in his direction as she kept on walking. She had much bigger fish to fry than scuffling with a lowly Ministry security minion.

Ever since the publication of her book on Albus Dumbledore, Rita had enjoyed a return to the combination of nervous deference and sneering scorn from the wizarding world that she was used to. It was a welcome relief, this return to her rightful position of public attention, after the year of . . . exile inflicted on her by that Granger girl. Rita sniffed at the thought of her and then, with a two-inch, bright red talon of a fingernail, beckoned at the acid-green quill that hovered, quivering expectantly, at her shoulder. She continued to make her way down the hall, scanning the crowd for persons of consequence and listening carefully to the buzz of conversation around her for any juicy tidbits that could be tucked away for future use. Her vigilance was rewarded almost immediately.

"I told you paying a visit to the Pest Advisory Bureau would be a waste of time, Harold." A harried-looking wizard in work robes was muttering at his companion.

"Well, they LOOKED like doxies to me," huffed the other wizard.

"Now you've put us behind schedule, and you know that," the first wizard looked around nervously, " _HE_ is getting nervous about the house being finished on time."

Rita's ear's perked up at the emphasis put on the word "he" and moved in smoothly right behind the two arguing wizards. Her reporter's instincts told her this was a conversation she needed to hear.

"Oh, don't worry so much, Alfred." Harold clapped him on the back. "We'll be done on schedule and only a tiny bit over-budget. And just think of what it will do for our business once people find out that WE built Harry Potter's house!"

" _SHHH!_ " Alfred hissed at his companion. "How many times do I have to tell you to shut up about that?" He grabbed Harold's arm and dragged him off in the direction of the nearest Floo fireplace.

Rita's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, and she scuttled after the two wizards, determined to find out much, much more. . . .

 

******  


 

  
"If we have to move this bloody sofa one more time, Hermione . . ." Ron said, holding his wand aloft and aiming it at a large, overstuffed sofa that was currently hovering over the fireplace. He, Harry, and Hermione were at Harry's cottage, what Ron had affectionately termed "Potter's Cottage," rearranging the furniture while Ginny was off on a short Quidditch tour.

"Oh, Ronald—it's not as if I'm asking you to carry it on your back. Do stop moaning, please." Hermione frowned at him, and then considered the sofa once more. Ginny hadn't told her exactly where she wanted this particular piece of furniture, because it wasn't supposed to have been delivered till she got back. "I think . . ." she said slowly, and then she clapped her hands. "Yes, over there." Hermione pointed at the opposite side of the room from the fireplace. "What do you think, Harry?" she said, looking at him for approval.

"Hmm?" Harry hadn't been paying attention. He'd been thinking about the house, and how, in a few months, he and Ginny would be living here permanently. "Yes. Whatever you think is best."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled indulgently. "Well, I suppose Ginny can get you to move it when she gets back, if she doesn't like it. Go ahead, Ron, put it down there, at the other end of the room. What day exactly will she be back, Harry?"

"Day after tomorrow. So we'd better get this finished."

"Well, well, well . . ." A voice rich with ill-concealed glee suddenly sounded from the paned glass doors at the back of the living room. "Isn't this just the most _precious_ little love nest this reporter has ever laid eyes on! Harry . . . I'm so deliriously happy for you, my dear!"

Harry's head snapped up at the sound of the voice, a voice he knew all too well. He was seated in an armchair by the fireplace and didn't bother turning around. "Whatever it is you want, Rita, the answer is no."

"Oh, come now, Harry. Is that any way to greet an old friend? Someone who's risked her reputation to help you in the past?" Rita sauntered into the living room and appraised it with a raised, cynical eyebrow. "How . . . quaint, really! Harry, you KNOW the _Daily Prophet_ is going to ask me to report on your wedding. Wouldn't you rather give me the goods yourself than make me look . . . elsewhere?" she said meaningfully.

As she continued to look around the room, Rita suddenly became aware of Hermione and Ron's presence. "Oh," she said, her lip curling in disgust, "it's Little Miss Perfect. Why am I not surprised to find _you_ here? _Hmmm_ . . ." She put a long, manicured finger to her lips. "Perhaps this is why you've been hiding from me, Harry. A little love triangle going on, out here in the middle of nowhere, so prying eyes won't see?" The Quick Quotes Quill that was always by her shoulder began scribbling furiously.

Ron took a step forward, not bothering to hide the anger on his face. Harry stood up and quickly put a hand on Ron's chest. "I'll handle this," he said evenly. Then he turned to Rita Skeeter. "This is breaking and entering, Rita. I could have you arrested for this."

"Oh, but you wouldn't do that, Harry. The repercussions . . . the stories I could tell. Wouldn't that be a lovely welcome-home present for your little bride-to-be?" Rita smiled at him, her eyes gleaming. "But seriously, Harry, we don't want to go down that road, do we? Let's face facts: the wizarding world is all a-quiver for details of your romantic wedding, and I can deliver those details . . . with or without your cooperation. Surely we can strike a deal of some kind."

"You are vile and despicable," Hermione said in a quiet but deadly voice. "And completely without decency."

Rita waved a hand in dismissal. "You have nothing to threaten me with now, you silly little girl. You don't bother me."

"I'll bother you, Skeeter," Ron said, taking another step forward.

It took some effort, but Harry held him off. "The only deal I'll make with you is if you leave now," he said, his own anger rising, "then maybe I'll forget about this whole thing."

Rita looked at him, appraising the situation as she tapped a fingernail against her lips. She had, of course, hoped for a better outcome to their encounter than this, but she was not entirely surprised. Potter had this fantasy that he could keep his life private, but she knew better; she knew the public was still hungry for news of him even now, when the war was already beginning to fade to memory. Still . . . perhaps another tactic.

"Of course, Harry! I understand this isn't a good time, you're busy and preoccupied at the moment. I'll get in touch with you again soon, and we can . . . discuss, yes? Oh, wait! Did I forget to mention that I have some VERY inside information on that illegal Portkey operation the Ministry has been trying to crack for weeks now? I think you'd be _fascinated_ by the secrets I'm privy to." Rita favoured him with a sleek smile. "You know as well as I that cooperation is inevitable and to our mutual advantage." Rita tipped him a very large wink, scowled at Hermione, and ignored Ron as she headed jauntily for the door.

"Hang on," Harry called out with a heavy sigh. He didn't want to bargain with the reporter, but if she had information about a crime, he had no choice but to try to find out what she knew. "All right, I'll hear you out. Meet me at the Ministry tomorrow, and if your information pans out, _then_ we'll talk about you covering the wedding. But if you're giving me a line of rubbish, the deal's off, understood?"

Rita paused at the door, her back still to him, and allowed herself a triumphant smile before turning around, her face arranged in an expression of aggrieved innocence. "Why, Harry—would I even _think_ of giving you information that wasn't one hundred percent accurate?" Pretending she could not see the look of pure hatred Hermione shot at her, she gave Harry another wide, smug smile, and flickered her fingers in a good-bye wave. "Till tomorrow then, Harry!" And with that, she made her exit, trailed by the Quick Quotes Quill, which was still writing feverishly.

"Well, that settles it," Ron said, after he was certain Rita was out of hearing range. "Tomorrow's headline will say, 'Harry Potter Lives in Squalor with Destitute Weasley Girl.'"

"Don't worry," Harry said, "I'll handle it." And he would, tomorrow at the Ministry.

 

******  


 

  
Looking with distaste at the young wizard clerk who had pushed past her, Rita sniffed and stepped out of the lift onto Level Two, making her way immediately to Auror Headquarters.

"Can I help you?" A wizard stuck his head out of the first cubicle, a smile on his face that quickly faded as soon as he recognised her.

"Never mind," she said haughtily with a wave of her hand. "I'm here for a meeting with Harry Potter, so just go back to your own business."

Harry heard her voice before he saw her, and he rose to greet her. "Rita," he said. "So what've got for me?"

"My, my, my—that's rather abrupt, isn't it, Harry?" Rita _tsk_ ed at him and shook her head. "Not even a cup of tea for an old friend, some social pleasantries before we settle down to business?"

"Friend?" Harry snorted. "Do you even know what that word means? Let's not waste each other's time, Rita. I know what you want and you know what I want." He sat back in his chair and twirled his wand between his fingers.

Rita gave him a somewhat sour look before she seated herself on the chair beside Harry's desk. "All right, if it's going to be like that." She opened her green crocodile handbag and produced a small piece of parchment with a flourish. "You'll find the names of all the shops and shop-owners in Diagon Alley who are part of a secret ring, supplying illegal Portkeys to persons who have. . . shall we say, suspicious intentions regarding the use of said Portkeys? And . . ." she winced slightly, "I'm willing to let you have complete credit for breaking up this ring, if you live up to YOUR promise and give me the exclusive on your upcoming nuptials."

Harry glanced at the list. There were some surprising names on the list, and he was interested in checking them out immediately. But he didn't want to appear anxious, so he placed the parchment on his desk. "IF your list proves useful," he said, then paused, "you'll get your exclusive. But there are conditions."

Rolling her eyes, Rita laughed heartily. "Oh, my dear boy, you can't put 'conditions' on journalism! The wizarding public has a right to know, and your wedding, well . . . honestly, Harry, you KNOW it's the social event of the year, possibly even the decade. 'The Chosen One Chooses His Bride'—that will be my headline." She gave him what she thought of as her most winning smile. "You can't stop people from being curious about your life, Harry—or about your intended. I will _certainly_ need to do a one-on-one interview with the lucky girl who's stolen your heart. Jenny Weasley, isn't that her name?" She reached into her bag and pulled out her Quick Quotes Quill.

"It's Ginny. And that's Condition Number One." He sat up. "Write what you will about me, I don't care. You've printed enough rubbish about me over the years. But say one nasty thing about my wife and her family, and I'll see to it that no one ever speaks to you from here to the Highland Lochs."

"Nasty?" Rita looked shocked. "This is a story about true love—why would I be nasty? It's _too_ romantic, my dear. And my readers will eat the story up with a spoon: Ginny Weasley, a plain but sweet and charming girl from a poor, slightly shabby, and proud family, wins the heart of the wizarding world's noble hero, Harry Potter. The _Daily Prophet_ will be sold out in minutes!"

"I think this meeting is at an end," Harry said, fighting to keep his anger under control. "You know the way out."

"Oh, all _right_ ," Rita huffed at him. "I wouldn't let anyone else restrict my journalistic freedom this way, but because it's you . . ." She was furious, but knew that she'd be pressing her luck, and might lose her exclusive altogether, if she didn't at least appear to back down. "No interview with your fiancée, then. I'll just attend the wedding and stay discreetly in the background, all right?" _And interview every one I can lay hands on, hoping to pry some inside information about this romance out of them,_ she thought to herself. "Deal, Harry?" She bared her teeth at him in what she hoped was a convincing, conciliatory smile.

Glaring back, Harry knew he was being bamboozled, but he also knew that one way or another, Rita would crash the wedding. "Deal. But you should know that the Minister himself will be there, so if you put one toe out of line, I'm certain he'll find a cozy cell for you and your Quick Quotes Quill in Azkaban."

Rita's nostrils flared, and she barely restrained herself from hissing. She and Kingsley Shacklebolt had never gotten along, and he was far too protective of Harry for her tastes. He was also, as Minister for Magic, the one person who could end her career at the _Daily Prophet_ in a second. But . . . one way or another, she would find a way around this obstacle. This WAS the story of the decade, and she was not going to let anything interfere with her being the one to tell it.

"The Minister himself, at your wedding, Harry?" she said brightly. "How . . . thrilling! I'm sure you won't mind if I get that little detail down on parchment, just so I don't forget it?" Rita looked at Harry hopefully, and then nodded at the acid-green quill, which began to busily scratch its way across the parchment.

 

End of Chapter 4. . . .  


 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the wedding continue: Ron is not impressed at having to get new dress robes, and Ginny is not impressed at one of the names on the guest list. But the night of the rehearsal finally arrives, and Harry and Ginny cannot wait for the wedding day . . . and night.

This is a work of fiction, which borrows characters created and/or owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros.,  
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, Raincoast Books, and Scholastic Inc. We do not own the characters, certainly no profit  
was made from the use of them, and no harm came to them in the course of writing the story.  
We return them to their owners with thanks. 

 

 

 

  
"Oh, my goodness," sighed Madam Malkin through a mouthful of pins. "I remember as if it were just last month the day you came in here for your first Hogwarts robes! Oh, turn this way, Harry, this hem is not straight . . ."

Madam Malkin gestured at Harry to turn towards her and started repinning a section of his robes. "Forgive me for being sentimental, my dear," she continued with another happy sigh, "but it really is quite an emotional occasion for me. I was telling my friend Edith just last week, 'Little Harry Potter is all grown up, and I'm to make his wedding robes—can you imagine!'" She beamed up at Harry, with the threat of tears in her eyes.

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was fidgeting across the room and rolled his eyes. Ron shook his head and rolled his eyes, too.

"I don't see why we need new dress robes, anyway," groused Ron, tugging on his sleeves.

"If Ginny wants new dress robes, she gets new dress robes," Harry replied. He knew before they arrived at Diagon Alley that getting Ron fitted for new robes was going to be about as much fun as a basket full of Blast-ended Skrewts.

"Now, don't tug on that, love," the assistant seamstress said as she tried to make Ron stand still. "It will come out all crooked!"

Madam Malkin peered across the room, frowning. "Make sure you get that straight, Betsy! We can't have anything less than perfect for Harry Potter's wedding!" She looked as if she was about to come across the room and check for herself when suddenly the door to the shop swung open and George Weasley strode in.

"Ah, bless them," he said, looking at Harry and Ron with a dramatic sigh. "Don't they look a lovely pair!"

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Ron said, scowling even more. This day had gone from worse to dreadful. "Who's minding the shop?"

"Verity, of course," George said carelessly. "And she's a right sight better at it than you are, little brother." He walked over to Ron and motioned to him to turn around. "Come on, let's see you from all angles! Hmm . . ." George stroked his chin and then said musingly, "It needs a bit of lace around the collar, like your first dress robes. That would bring out the colour in his eyes, don't you think, Harry?"

"Ginny did mention something about a bonnet . . ." said Harry, joining in on the joke. He knew it would rile Ron, but he didn't care. It was too much fun.

"Bonnet? What? No . . . no, absolutely not. It's bad enough you've got me wearing more dress robes."

"Ron, this is your sister's wedding. Your ONLY sister's wedding."

"Bloody hell, the lot of you."

"Ooo!" George began to bite his nails in mock terror. "Stop that, you're making me shake in my boots!" Then he smirked and turned to Harry. "Well, Harry m'lad, you're looking beautiful in those new robes, I have to admit. My little sister will be pleased." He gave Harry a very large wink before sitting down in a chair at the side of the shop, putting his hands behind his head, and returning his attention to his brother.

"You know, Ronald . . . now that you've got new dress robes, you might think about putting them to use yourself." He raised an eyebrow, and fixed Ron with a stern stare. "She won't wait forever. Not sure why she'd wait in the first place, but there you are." He shrugged and assumed a puzzled expression.

Ron glared back. "What are you on about? You're older than me—I don't see you settling down any time soon."

"He's right, you know," Harry interjected. "You know she'd say yes."

"Taking his side, are you?" huffed Ron, turning toward the mirror. "And you call yourself my friend."

"And you're a saint for taking on that job, Harry, with a git like him," George said, rolling his eyes. He rose from his chair, bowed to Madam Malkin, and then appraised his younger brother seriously for a moment. "Fred told you this once, and I'll say it for him again now: get a move on, before the best one is gone."

George whirled around, clapped Harry on the back, and left the shop.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron, knowing that he didn't have to say anything.

"Bugger off, both of you," Ron said irritably. "Are we done yet? It's bloody hot in here."

"Almost done," Betsy said, tugging on his other sleeve. "If you'll stand still, I can finish."

Madam Malkin sighed and returned to her pinning of Harry's robes. "They need to be perfect," she repeated stubbornly, and then she peered at the mirror in front of Harry to check his hem from another vantage point.

The bell over the shop door tinkled as the door opened again, and Molly Weasley rushed into the shop. "Hello, Madam Malkin," she said breathlessly, and then she gazed at Harry and Ron. "Oh, _LOOK_ at you two! Absolutely the most handsome young men I've ever seen!" She clasped her hands to her bosom and rushed over to fuss with Ron's robes and pat him on the cheek.

"Mum, you're squishing me," whined Ron, as Molly's hand not only patted but gave a gentle pinch. "This is all your fault, you know," he said, looking at Harry.

"What's my fault?" asked Harry, watching Madam Malkin to make sure the pins didn't accidentally secure something other than fabric.

"This. All of this. Fussing and dress robes. Why can't you just elope?"

"They'll do no such thing!" Molly gasped and swatted Ron hard on the arm. "Do you think my only daughter is not going to have the most beautiful wedding your father and I can give her? She would never—Harry!" Molly turned and advanced on him, her eyes flashing. "You and Ginny would never do that to us, would you, dear?"

"No," Harry said quickly, eager to diffuse the situation. "Absolutely not. We would never do that to you, after all you've done for me."

"Oh, Harry, please—you're talking as if you've been a burden!" She reached up and patted his check now. "You've been like a son to me almost from the beginning. That's why we want your wedding to be perfect."

"Exactly," Madam Malkin chimed in, and then, blushing lightly, went back to her hemming.

Molly looked down at her, smiling vaguely. Then she wheeled round to face her son again. "And I don't want to hear anymore complaining from you, Ron. You could take a page from Harry's book, you know," she said, looking at him meaningfully as she brushed imaginary lint from his robes.

Once again, Ron rolled his eyes. "I must have missed the _Daily Prophet_ today—I didn't realize it was 'Badger Ron Day.'"

"You're changing the subject," teased Harry.

"Am not! And I'm hungry. You hurried us out of the house this morning. I didn't even get to finish my porridge."

"Oh, Ron," Molly said, shaking her head. "You're always hungry! And gracious me!" She looked at the clock on the shop wall. "Speaking of food, I need to go talk to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron about the menu for the wedding. He's going to lend me one of his cooks, and some waiters, for the reception." She pulled Ron towards her and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "Think about what I said, now," she whispered to him, a bit louder than necessary. "You don't want to keep her waiting forever."

She bustled over to Harry, kissed him on the cheek, too, and hurried out of the shop, setting the bell to ringing again.

"Are we done yet?" Ron nearly shouted.

Harry smirked. He wasn't going to press the issue, but Mrs. Weasley and George were right. Although, now that he thought about it, Hermione probably would wait forever.

"There!" Madam Malkin beamed triumphantly. "That's you done, Harry!" She whisked his robes off him, and then looked over at her assistant expectantly. "What about you, Betsy?"

Betsy was biting down on her tongue in fierce concentration, and a moment later, she looked up, smiling. "I'm done as well, Madam!" She also relieved Ron of the pinned-up robes he was wearing, and then turned toward the door when the bell tinkled loudly once again, and Ginny and Hermione walked into the shop.

"Oh," Ginny said with a grin, "did we miss the fashion show?" She walked up to Harry and kissed him lightly, stroking his face and smiling at him.

"Isn't there some sort of tradition about not seeing the groom before the wedding day?" joked Harry, taking Ginny's hand.

"Silly, that's only the day OF the wedding," Ginny replied, laughing and shaking her head as she twined her fingers round his. "Hermione and I had to come in to Diagon Alley to pick up the parchment for the invitations, so I thought we'd come over and see how you and Ron were doing."

Hermione walked over to Ron and kissed him on the cheek as she stroked his fringe off his forehead and fussed with his shirt. "Have you already been fitted? I was so looking forward to seeing you in the new dress robes, Ron!"

Ron flinched away from this public display of affection, not wanting to incite any more commentary from Madam Malkin. "You'll see me soon enough," he said grumpily. He'd had enough of dress robes for one day. All of this wedding talk was starting to grate on him.

"He looked lovely," Harry said to Hermione. "Though I think it could use . . . some lace, perhaps." He winked at Ginny and squeezed her hand. "Have you any more errands?"

"No," Ginny said slowly, biting her lip as she counted off things in her head. "I think we've got all the supplies we need to make the invitations up when we get back home, don't we, Hermione?"

"Um, I think so," Hermione said quietly. She was still smarting a little from Ron's reaction to her kiss, and his sharp dismissal of her eagerness to see the new robes. _What was the matter with him,_ she wondered. But Hermione knew she wouldn't get any more out of him now. She _would_ talk to him later, though; he'd been far too moody lately, and she wanted to know why.

Turning back to Ginny, she forced a smile. "Yes, I think we've got it all now. We should be able to get that done this afternoon, no problem."

"Ron and I would be happy to help," mocked Harry. "Wouldn't we, Ron?"

Ron raised his eyebrows and replied sarcastically, "I'd just as soon climb into a cauldron full of spiders."

 

******  


 

  
Back at the Burrow, Harry watched from the kitchen counter as Ginny and Hermione sat at the table and regarded several bewitched quills busily scratching out each invitation. Uther, their new owl (for that's what he'd named him), stood at the edge of the table with his leg stuck impatiently out. He was eager to start making deliveries.

Harry still hadn't decided how he was going to break the news to his fiancée that Rita Skeeter and _her_ magic quill were going to attend the wedding. He eyed the stack of parchment. "Exactly how many people are we inviting?" he asked taking a bite of one of the biscuits Mrs. Weasley had just baked.

"Too many," Ginny groaned. "I was hoping for a small wedding, you know that, but the list of family alone is frightening. And then there's all our friends; how can we leave anyone out?" She sighed and set another quill to writing. "I thought we could get this done in one afternoon, but now . . . I'm not so sure."

"Let's go out to the paddock, Harry," Ron said abruptly. "We could mess around and play a bit of Quidditch. I'm getting tired of listening to all that scratching." He jerked his head at the quills, scowling, and then slouched out the door without waiting for an answer.

Hermione blinked, and then lowered her head to trace the list of invitees with her finger as she checked it again, hoping that Harry and Ginny wouldn't notice the flush on her cheeks—or how upset she was.

But Harry did notice, and he didn't understand why Ron was being so cranky lately. Was he jealous again, that Harry was getting all of this attention? He shook his head and followed Ron outside, and right before they reached the broom shed, he said, "Hey, what's gotten into you, lately?"

Ron ducked his head and headed inside the broom shed, desperate not to look Harry in the face. "What d'you mean?" he muttered, "I'm fine. Just tired of all this wedding nonsense."

Now he'd done it. This was Ginny's big day and Ron was treading all over it. "What's that supposed to mean? You know how important this is to your sister. I'm sorry it's such a _nuisance_ to you."

Ron backed out of the shed, glaring at Harry now. "I don't mean that! Of course I want my sister—and you—to be happy, you git! It's just . . ." He huffed angrily and then banged the door of the shed shut. "You wouldn't get it, never mind," Ron said, his voice low, and he stalked off in the direction of the paddock.

Harry suddenly had a flashback to their fourth year at Hogwarts. He wasn't going to go through _that_ again. "Try me," he said flatly.

Ron stopped, his back to Harry for a moment. Then, suddenly, he wheeled round to face him again. "Just think about it for a minute, mate," he spit out. "How do you think I feel, watching you . . . make all my sister's dreams come true AND giving her everything she could ever want, when I can't afford . . ." He paused, and then heaved a huge, defeated sigh before going on in a quieter voice. "When I can't afford to do anything near that for Hermione?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, honestly befuddled. "George says that the shop is doing really well. He's already talking about expanding."

"Yeah, but that's HIS shop, isn't it? I'm just the kid brother, filling in," he said bitterly. "I don't suppose you know what it feels like to be second best. How can I ... ask her to marry me when I don't have the proper means to give her what she deserves?" Ron looked up at Harry. "Like you can, for my sister."

Money. It always came back to money for Ron, even now. If Harry could give away his fortune to his best friend, he would, but he knew Ron would never take a Knut from him. "That's not true, about the shop, you know. George thinks of you as a partner. Besides, you know Hermione doesn't care about any of that. She'd marry you tomorrow if you'd ask her."

Ron stared at Harry for a full minute, still scowling, and then he sighed again, and started playing with a bent twig on the broom. "You really reckon she'd have me?" he said finally.

"You know, Ron, sometimes you really are stupid. Of course she'd have you. She'd marry you if you didn't have a Knut to your name."

"Well, everyone keeps badgering me, going on and bloody on about 'Why haven't you asked her?' and I was thinking, what if she said no, you know?" Ron glanced at Harry quickly, then lowered his eyes again. "So, you think I should, then? Ask her, I mean. Not now, of course," he said hurriedly. "I don't want to draw attention away from you and Ginny."

Harry started to protest, but then he thought of Ginny. The wedding was her day. He didn't want to take that away from her. "Maybe you're right," Harry said. "But don't wait too long, okay?"

Ron nodded, then broke out in a grin. "I know—I'll ask her AT the wedding! That would be nice and romantic, wouldn't it—she'd like that. Yeah," he said emphatically. His decision made, he felt like smiling again. "Come on, Harry—let's go play some Quidditch." And he headed for the paddock with a much lighter step.

Slightly sweaty and a little dust-covered, Harry and Ron returned to the house an hour later. Harry headed for the refrigerator for the pitcher of pumpkin juice Mrs. Weasley kept ready for them, and he noticed the stack of parchment was considerably lower. "Almost finished?" he asked, moving to stand next to Ginny.

"Yes, thank goodness," Ginny told him, pausing for a second so she could tug him down and closer to give him a quick kiss. "I think Hermione and I both have just a few left, and then that's done. I don't ever want to see another invitation again!"

Hermione nodded. "We had to give a few of the closest ones, distance-wise, to Errol to deliver; Uther just had too many to take all at once!"

Harry knew that he had to tell Ginny about Rita Skeeter before she finished writing out the last of the invitations. "Erm, Ginny, I'm afraid there's one more invitation you'll have to send."

Ginny looked up at him, puzzled. "Did you forget to put someone on the list? Who else could there possibly be?"

There was no other way to say it. "Rita Skeeter."

There was complete silence in the room for a full minute. Ginny simply stared at Harry, her mouth slightly open. Finally she spoke. "I must be hearing things, Harry. I could swear you just said that you wanted to invite Rita Skeeter to our wedding. Please tell me I'm hearing things." Her eyes were now flashing.

_Uh-oh, here it comes,_ thought Harry. _Our first fight._ Well, it was bound to happen sometime. He looked to Ron for support, but Ron had suddenly found a jar of marmalade quite fascinating. "No, you're not," he said with resolve. "Except the part about me wanting to invite her. I didn't _want_ to invite her, I had to." Then he softened his voice. He didn't want to upset Ginny. "She was going to find a way to intrude anyway, and well, she has information that I need."

Ginny continued to stare at him as the very loud silence continued. "So," she said at last, her voice quiet but furious, "you're selling off pieces of our wedding—without telling me—for the good of the Ministry, so you can . . . save the wizarding world." Ginny paused and raised an eyebrow. "I guess some things never change. Hermione,"—Ginny spoke to her without looking at her, her eyes still fixed on Harry—"would you mind writing out that very important invitation for us? I don't think I can quite manage it myself."

And with that, she left the room, brushing past Harry as she turned her face away from him. When she got to the stairs, Ginny began to run, and a moment later, the door to her room slammed shut.

Harry glanced from Ron to Hermione, completely dumbfounded. "What? What was I supposed to do?"

Hermione looked at him, a very uncomfortable expression on her face. "Oh, Harry! Ginny's never had to deal with Rita directly, but she's seen her savage everyone she cares about—from you, to her father, even me. Rita Skeeter is the last person anyone would want at their wedding, but for Ginny especially, well . . . You should have told her about it before this." She glanced up the stairs. "And you'd better go up there."

"Ron, you understand why I did it, don't you?"

Ron was now extremely interested in a spatula. "Sorry, mate, she's got you there."

Harry scowled at Hermione, but he knew she was right. He shouldn't have waited so long to tell Ginny. Two years out of Hogwarts and girls were still so complicated.

In a huff, he left the room and trudged up the stairs to the second floor, where he noticed Ginny's door was quite obviously shut. He steeled himself and knocked softly. "Ginny? Ginny, please talk to me."

Ginny was staring out her window when she heard the knock, and Harry's voice. She heaved a great sigh, then went over and opened the door—and returned to the window, her back still to Harry.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she said quietly, hoping she could hold back the tears of disappointment that were threatening.

Harry stood near the door, hands in his pockets. He was never good at this sort of thing—but this was his fiancée. It was time he _got_ good at it. "Ginny, I'm really sorry you found out like this. I didn't mean for it to happen. She came to the house."

Ginny whirled round. "She was in our house? That . . . _bitch_ was in OUR house? I'm going to have to go over and scrub it from cellar to attic," she whispered as her tears started to flow, hot and thick. "Oh, Harry . . . how could you have let her in there?"

Now Harry saw how truly upset Ginny was. When something riled Ginny, she didn't hold back. He rushed over to her and sat beside her and put his arms around her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you like this. I want your day to be perfect." He paused, then pulled away, so he could look at her face. "But, Ginny, you know what I am. You know how important being an Auror is to me. I never want anything to happen to you, and if making a deal with Rita will help me protect you, then I'll do it. But I promise you, Ginny, she is not going to ruin our wedding."

Wiping at her eyes, Ginny took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could see how much she'd worried Harry with her reaction, and now she felt angry with herself for that. She took another breath in, and then laid her head on Harry's shoulder. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, too, Harry. I know you didn't 'let' her do anything. She's a scheming, heartless, malicious . . ." Ginny paused, at a loss for words. "After all she's done to you, she doesn't _deserve_ to be at our wedding. But I don't suppose there IS a way we can keep her out. And even if we did, she'd just write even worse lies about us than if we let her come!"

Just thinking about it made her angry all over again, and she wrested herself away from Harry to go stand in front of the window once more, arms folded in front of her. "I know you have to do your job, too, Harry. I do. It's just . . ." After a moment, she turned back to face him, fresh tears running down her cheeks. "Sometimes I wish," she said quietly, "that someone else could take care of our world, and you belonged just to me."

Hero complex. Isn't that what Hermione once accused him of having? He stood up and faced her. "I _do_ belong to you, Ginny. I always will. That 'bitch' is not going to write a bad word about you or your family. I'll see to that, and so will Kingsley. If Rita steps out of line once, _Hagrid_ will toss her straight into the Dark Forest."

Ginny tried to smile. "I can only imagine what would happen if we let Hermione loose on her, too; she's the only one who's ever actually bested her, isn't she?" She held out her hand to Harry.

"See? Even I couldn't stop her." He brought a hand to her face and wiped a tear away. "I hate to see you like this. What can I do to help?"

"Other than arrest Rita?" Ginny said with a watery sort of giggle. "Well, you could . . ." She looked up at him from under her lashes. "Kiss me."

"I'd much rather kiss you," Harry said, then wrapped his arms around Ginny's waist and pulled her close, and leaned in and did as asked.

Ginny slid her arms around Harry and then up his back, pulling him in even closer against her body as she kissed him. His lips, as always, were so sweet and soft and tempting, it wasn't long before Ginny parted her own lips slightly, inviting him to take their embrace deeper.

Harry didn't need any more encouragement. He slipped his tongue inside Ginny's warm, welcoming mouth and began backing up toward the bed. When the back of his knees touched the mattress, he lowered them down.

Ginny moaned a little as Harry pulled her down after him, till they were both sitting on her bed. A little voice inside told her this was dangerous; the closer they got to the wedding, the more difficult it was to tell herself they had to wait. Sometimes she just wanted him so much . . . was that really wrong? Ginny started to lean backwards, bringing Harry with her as she did, lifting one hand to drift her fingers through his hair . . .

Harry didn't think about what they were doing, he just went with it. This was his fiancée, and he loved her, and he enjoyed kissing her. What was the harm? Soon, though, his hands grew restless, and they began to wander from Ginny's waist upward, until they found the swell of her breasts. Even through her jumper, Harry could feel how firm and supple they were, and as he continued to kiss Ginny, he imagined his mouth on those mounds . . .

It felt too good, having his hands explore her. And she didn't want to wait anymore, for . . . more. As she continued to kiss him, Ginny slowly reached for Harry's hand and then, just as slowly, started to guide it under her jumper. "Harry," she sighed, pulling away from his mouth for a moment to catch her breath.

"Ginny," Harry whispered, lifting his head, panting, afraid he was doing something wrong. He searched Ginny's eyes and saw nothing but encouragement. With his heart thumping in his chest, his hand slid up her body until it found one of her breasts. Even through the lace of her bra, he could feel its warmth, and he began to gently knead her flesh.

"Oh," Ginny whispered, squirming a little under him as the touch of Harry's hand both excited her and made her nervous. A little voice inside her head was warning, _This is NOT a good idea, not in your bedroom in your mother's house,_ but Ginny didn't want to listen to it yet. Just a little more . . . She began to kiss Harry again, and started to slide her hand up inside Harry's shirt, skimming over his stomach and gasping quietly, as she always did, when her fingers encountered the thick hair on his belly.

"Ginny," Harry murmured again. He began to kiss her more urgently now. It felt so good when she touched him, he wanted her to feel even more. He wanted to feel their skin touching. He broke away for a moment, reluctantly removing his hand from underneath her jumper, then kissed her again—her lips, her chin, her neck—before sitting up and removing his jacket and pulling his T-shirt up and over his head.

Watching as Harry removed his shirt, Ginny circled her lips with her tongue. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry, and she couldn't quite breathe properly. Ginny couldn't believe how beautiful he was, and how much she wanted to be with him. And right now, at this minute, to feel his skin . . .

"Wait," she murmured, and she struggled to sit up enough so that she could grasp the edge of her jumper and pull it up over her head. Ginny threw it to the floor, and then reached out her arms to Harry. "Come here," she said softly.

Harry gazed down at Ginny's beautiful and, yes, sexy body. He stared at her breasts for a moment before lowering himself into her arms and burying his face in her neck, which he resumed kissing. And he couldn't resist touching her, her exposed skin, her breasts. How he loved the feel of her breasts under his hands, even through the soft lace of her bra.

Ginny closed her eyes and turned her head so Harry could reach her neck better, reveling in the feel of his lips on her skin and his hands on her breasts. "Harry," she breathed, "I love you." She reached up and around him, stroking his back slowly as he continued to kiss and touch her. Suddenly, Ginny felt almost desperate to hold him even closer, and she wrapped her arms tight around him, pulling him in against her . . .

" _Oh!_ " She gasped and felt her face go scarlet; Harry was as excited as she was, and Ginny could feel the evidence of that pressing into her, rubbing against her stomach as they clung to each other. "Harry," she said breathlessly, pushing gently on his shoulder, "maybe we should . . . um . . ."

For a moment, Harry continued kissing Ginny, not registering what she was saying. Then he realized what was going on. She could feel it. She could feel his desire through his jeans. He quickly pushed himself up and off her, landing on his back next to her. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice ragged. "You're right—we should stop." He brought a hand to his forehead, which was damp with sweat. "Damn."

Ginny lay there beside him, breathing hard. "Don't be sorry, Harry," she said after a minute, reaching out to find his hand. "I don't want to stop, really. But . . ." she rolled over on her side, and smiled ruefully at him, "this isn't the proper place, or time." Ginny looked at him, and thought that her heart was going to burst, she loved him so much. She reached out to push his fringe off his sweaty forehead. "I can't wait," she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek, "till we're married, and in our house. No one can stop us then. Right now, though, we'd better get dressed, before Ron comes looking for us."

"Wait," Harry said, holding onto Ginny's hand. "I love you, too. I'm not going to lie—it's not been easy, these past few months, having to stop every time we start to . . . But soon we'll be married, and I know it will have been worth it."

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny sat up and took hold of his hand with both of hers. "Of course it's worth it! I'd wait as long as I had to, for you. I'm just glad we don't _have_ to wait much longer." She blushed, then kissed him again, this time on the lips. "But I still think, if we want to live to see our wedding, we'd best make ourselves presentable." Ginny paused, listening for noises from downstairs. "I don't hear Ron, do you?"

At that, Harry's desire sank, and with a groan he sat up and rummaged for his shirt, secretly counting the days until the wedding.

 

******  


 

  
"Blimey, Harry," exclaimed Ron, from the comfort of the large armchair he was sitting in. "I still can't believe you got the Weird Sisters to play at the wedding."

"Well, it's not like I asked them—they asked _me_. And I knew Ginny would like that." It was two days before the wedding, and he, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had escaped to the new Potter house for a night of peace and quiet before tomorrow's rehearsal dinner and the ensuing wedding madness. They were in the parlour, listening to the latest Weird Sisters album on the gramophone. Harry and Ginny reclined on the overstuffed sofa, Harry's arm draped around Ginny's shoulder.

"I _will_ like it," Ginny said, smiling at Harry and tapping her finger on his nose playfully. "Everyone will like it. But right now, I don't care about anything but the fact that we're sitting in our house—OUR house. Everything's ready, everything's here, and the day after tomorrow . . ." She paused, looked at Harry, and sighed blissfully. "The day after tomorrow, we'll be married, and we can live here." She leaned closer and gave him a soft, lingering kiss.

Harry knew what Ginny wasn't saying, and he was looking forward to that, he hoped, as much as she was. "Won't you miss it, though, living with your parents?"

"They won't be that far away. I'm sure Mum will pop over often—maybe more often than we want," Ginny said with a giggle. "But I'm looking forward to living with you far more than I'm going to miss living with them." And she kissed him again.

Hermione watched Harry and Ginny, smiling but a little wistful, too. She sighed and gave Ron a quick glance, but he was busily avoiding looking at his sister and best friend, studying the Weird Sisters' album cover. She sighed again, and turned back to the happy couple.

"Speaking of the Weird Sisters and your wedding," she said, clearing her throat carefully to interrupt them, "are you two ready for the first dance at the reception?"

Harry looked up sharply. "Dance? What dance?" He tried to remember Bill and Fleur's wedding, but all he could conjure were images of Death Eaters.

Ginny sat up and looked at Hermione. "You're right, Hermione!" She turned back to Harry. "We have to do the first dance, as husband and wife—just us on the floor, alone. It'll be lovely," she promised him soothingly.

Lovely? Harry wasn't so sure. The last time he had danced was the Yule ball, and that didn't turn out so well. "Erm, if you say so," he said, glancing at Ron, who was rolling his eyes at the girls.

Hermione was studying Harry, her head tilted to the side. "You know, Ginny, I do believe your husband-to-be has not danced since he was in school."

Ginny pulled back and stared at Harry, then nodded gravely at Hermione, going along with her tone. "I do believe you're right, Hermione."

"I think I should give him a lesson, if that's all right with you. Just so he doesn't step all over your feet the day after tomorrow and leave you crippled."

"Please do," Ginny said magnanimously. "He needs help, and you've always been better at teaching than I am."

"Hang on, do we really have to do this?" Harry protested, but really he was enjoying this.

"Yes, you must. I don't want you to embarrass me at the wedding." Ginny shook her head regretfully, as if this was truly a problem, and then broke into a smile. She kissed him quickly, and then began to shove him off the couch and towards Hermione. "Go!"

Hermione stood up and stretched out her arms toward Harry. "Come on, you _know_ you need the practice!"

Reluctantly, Harry rose from the sofa and took Hermione's hand and put his other hand on her waist. Ron sat up now, suddenly interested. "This is silly," Harry said.

"Oh, stop it, Harry. It's not silly—you need to know how to do this! It's not just Ginny—you'll have to dance with her mum, and Fleur, and maybe even Auntie Muriel! If you don't know what you're doing . . ." Hermione shook her head just as regretfully as Ginny had, and then winked at Ginny over his shoulder.

"Aunt Muriel? No way. That's where I draw the line." He began to sway with Hermione. They shared a comfort level with each other that was unique to their friendship. Ron, however, watched with interest.

Ginny watched Harry as he followed Hermione's lead and began to relax a little. She knew how much he hated dancing, but he was doing this—for her. Her breath caught, and she tried to tame the butterflies running wild inside her chest. How was it possible that she fell more in love with him every day?

Smiling contentedly, Ginny glanced over at her brother and was surprised by the look on his face. _What an idiot,_ she thought to herself. Why Ron was so insecure about Hermione, she would never understand. Anyone could see how much she loved him—although the why of that baffled Ginny. But sometimes, Ron seemed to need to be provoked before he would act. Ginny grinned, and turned back to Harry and Hermione.

"You are really good at this, Hermione," she said innocently. "Harry looks so comfortable dancing with you."

"She's a fantastic dancer, really," Harry chimed in. Boldly, he spun her around and pulled her close. " _Mmm_ , and she smells nice, too . . ."

Fuming, Ron stood up and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "All right, mate, that's enough. I think you've got the hang of this. I'll take it from here."

Grinning, Harry stepped back to allow Ron to take Hermione in his arms. He looked over at Ginny, still smiling, and held out his hand. "I believe I just lost my dance partner," he said.

"No worries," she said as she got up from the sofa. "You're about to get a permanent one." She took his hand and then slipped her arm around his shoulders, swaying against him in time with the music. "For the rest of our lives," she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his.

Harry held her waist and closed his eyes. In a few days they would be married and living in this house, and they could hold each other like this whenever they wanted. "Are you nervous?" he asked quietly.

Ginny smiled to herself and snuggled a little tighter against his body. "No, not really." Then she pulled back and looked into his eyes, blushed a little and ducked her head. "Well . . . maybe a little. But mostly, I'm just so happy I think I might explode. There were times I thought this would never happen."

Harry pulled her a little closer. "It almost didn't, I suppose." He grew quiet, listening to the music and swaying with Ginny. "I almost can't believe in two days we'll be married."

"Do you remember the first time I tried to tell you how I felt about you?" Ginny asked him with a grin. "It was my first year at Hogwarts, your second. The Valentine card?" she prompted.

Groaning, Harry buried his face in Ginny's shoulder. "Not the Valentine card! I never heard the end of that one!"

Ginny looked up at the ceiling, pretending to consider something. "And then there was the get-well card I gave you your third year, which you hid beneath a bowl of fruit!" She looked back at him, trying not to laugh. "Hermione told me about that—you can't deny it!"

"It would scream every time I opened it!" Harry said, trying very hard not to laugh.

"But it was the thought that counts!" Ginny insisted, then dissolved into giggles. She hugged Harry tight with both arms. "It really did take longer than it should have to get your attention. But now that I have it . . ." she leaned back, smiled at him, and kissed him gently, "I'm not ever letting you go, Harry Potter."

Harry sighed and held her tightly. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried." He pulled back just a bit so he could look at her. "I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out."

"As long as you did," Ginny whispered. "That's what matters." She rested her head on Harry's shoulder and sighed. As they moved slowly to the music, Ginny looked around the parlour—THEIR parlour—and wondered how she would be able to wait two more days.

 

******  


 

  
"Arthur, ARTHUR!" Molly called out, her voice cutting through the din like a trumpet. "Can you PLEASE make sure those delivery trolls don't break half those chairs as they're setting them up! I can't be everywhere! Now, Minister," she turned back to the little group she was trying to organise under the marquee, "you stand there, and Ginny and Harry, you go right there, in front of him."

" _Mum,_ " Ginny said pleadingly, "I think Harry and I know where we're supposed to be standing." She rolled her eyes at Harry, making little effort to hide the look.

Harry shook his head good-naturedly, but he was actually really enjoying himself. He loved the bustle of Ginny's large family, everyone trying to lend a hand or offer a suggestion, often with conflicting results. It was everything he imagined his wedding would be and more.

From the far end of the yard, Arthur waved a hand at Molly, annoyed that she would even assume he couldn't handle a few trolls.

"Molly, my dear," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, "I know you want to be involved, but why don't you just take a seat and let these young people rehearse their entrance? Harry, Ron, you stay here—Ginny, Hermione, let's have you come down the aisle again. Where's Arthur? Arthur? Arthur Weasley?" he called out.

"Well, what is it?" Arthur cried out, holding a hand to his eyes. The sun was dipping down near the trees, and it was blinding him. They'd been at this for hours, and it was beginning to wear on him. "Trolls or stroll?"

"Dad, come here," Ginny called out. "You have to take me down the aisle." She smiled at her father, and walked back to meet him, so they could go through their paces.

Molly, sitting on the edge of her chair and craning her neck to watch the trolls, turned around suddenly and sighed, her eyes beginning to tear up as she watched her husband come under the marquee, and Ginny take his arm. "Oh, Ginny," she said tremulously, "you're going to look so beautiful tomorrow!" She took a large handkerchief out of her apron pocket and blew her nose.

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at Harry. "She's going to need a cauldron full of those tomorrow," he muttered under his breath.

Harry sniggered, but when he looked at Ginny, his heart skipped. The reality of what they were doing was starting to hit him.

"Can you step it up a bit?" George called out from his seat. "I'm starving."

Molly turned and gave him a piercing stare. "Never you mind about eating. We're rehearsing your sister's wedding, and we won't be eating until I'm satisfied that everything will be perfect tomorrow! Now, Ginny dear," she continued, her voice softer as she returned her attention to her daughter, "I was just wondering about something. Auntie Muriel won't bring her goblin tiara till tomorrow, but maybe I should get an old headband of yours for you to wear now, so you can practice walking gracefully down the aisle. What do you think?"

"Mother!" Ginny groaned. "I do NOT need to practice walking. Can we just get on with this?" She looked imploringly at her father, and then at Shacklebolt.

Shacklebolt threw up his hands and shook his head in frustration. "Go along with it, dear," Arthur muttered out of the side of his mouth, "or we'll never be done with this."

George, noticing a stray twig with leaves still attached to it, held it up. "Here, you can use this. It looks just like Aunt Muriel's tiara."

Hermione had followed Ginny to the back of the marquee, and now frowned at George. "I don't think we need to go that far, do we? Can't we just get on with it?" She raised her eyebrows, then looked around at everyone, hoping someone would see reason.

Ginny glared at her brother with a look obviously learned from her mother. "I am NOT wearing a twig in my hair!" She looked at Harry. "Please, Harry—help!"

"I don't know," he said, teasing, "if it would help speed things up . . ." He glanced over at Ron, who was trying very hard not to laugh.

George jogged over to Ginny with twig in hand and said, "Come on, little sis, for the good of the family," and placed it gently on her head.

"Oh, Merlin's pants!" Ginny said crossly. "This is ridiculous!"

"Ginny . . ." Molly said warningly. "That's not very becoming language for a bride. What will the Minister think?" She glanced at Shacklebolt, smiling apologetically, then said sternly, "Now, down the aisle with you. Arthur?" She waved the two of them on.

Ron snorted and looked down at his feet, suddenly very interested in the laces on his trainers. George began chanting, "Here comes the twig," and that set off Ron, which set off Harry, who was trying so hard not to laugh that tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.

"Blimey," George called out. "Harry's crying! This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

That was it. Ron doubled over, laughing, clutching his stomach. Harry couldn't control it, either, and even Shacklebolt had to fight to keep his composure.

Hermione, who was preceding Ginny down the aisle, rolled her eyes at all the male foolishness. As she got closer to where Harry, Ron, and Shacklebolt were standing, though, she looked sharply at a tree just outside the marquee. "Hang on," she said slowly, "there's someone behind that tree . . ."

"For goodness' sake!" Molly snapped, and she leapt from her chair and headed towards the tree. "I've been chasing people off the property for the last two days. Some one actually had the gall to argue with me yesterday, telling me he was sure he was late for the ceremony. Come out from behind there, whoever you are," she called out in a tone that would have frightened most people into obeying her command.

"Hello there, Harry _darling_!" Rita Skeeter slunk out from behind the rather large tree trunk and fluttered her brightly painted fingernails at him with a wide, completely unscrupulous smile. "I thought a small report about the eve of Harry Potter's wedding day would tide my readers over nicely tomorrow morning. While they wait for my BIG story, you know."

This just set Ron off even more. Could this rehearsal get any worse? "All we need is for Luna to show up on a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," he said, gasping for breath.

"You!" Hermione hissed. "You horrid, disgusting, slimy . . ."

But before she could go any further, Molly had reached Rita and grabbed her by the back of her collar. "What in bloody hell are YOU doing here? You will not be spreading your filth over my daughter's wedding!"

" _Mum!_ " Ginny ran up and tugged on her mother's arm. "No, you can't—" She looked back pleadingly. "Harry, we have to tell her!"

"I invited her," Harry stated flatly, all laughter gone from his face. At this point, he didn't know who he should be more wary of: Rita Skeeter or Mrs. Weasley. "To the wedding, that is." He looked pointedly at Rita. " _Not_ to the rehearsal."

"But Harry, darling! Me, myself, and I NEED to know all the details of such a romantic occasion, I told you that!" Rita bared her teeth at Harry in a smile, then went back to scowling at Molly and attempting to wriggle out of her grasp. "You're still the hero of the wizarding world," she said breathlessly, "and people love to here about such fairytale occasions! You WILL be having fairies present, as decorative accents, won't you? A little bird told me—"

"Harry," Molly said in a deadly quiet voice, "we will discuss this . . . later. For now," she turned back to Rita, "you heard Harry. You are not welcome here—not that that would make a difference to _YOUR_ type," she snorted. "Arthur, Minister—could you please escort this . . . _person_ off our property?"

Harry stayed where he was, wondering how on earth he was going to explain this to Molly. Ginny was one thing—she understood. She wasn't happy about it, but she understood. But Molly Weasley? The wedding she'd probably dreamt about for years?

Arthur hurried over, as did Shacklebolt, who said in a very authoritative voice, "You heard the lady, Miss Skeeter. You do not want to anger the Minister for Magic."

" _Anger_ you, Minister?" Rita said in a falsely sweet tone. "Why on earth would you think I wanted to do that? I'm always happy to cooperate with the Ministry, as Harry himself can tell you!" She winked at Shacklebolt coquettishly, but when her appeal fell on seemingly deaf ears, Rita huffed loudly several times, and raised an eyebrow. "Is this the kind of treatment I can expect tomorrow, Harry? Have you gone back on your word?"

Ginny was in her face in a minute. "If you are implying," she said, her voice cold and threatening, "that Harry has _EVER_ lied, to you or anyone, I will pull each one of your ugly, painted nails out one by one, as slowly and painfully as possible."

For years Harry had been worrying about protecting Ginny, but now he could see his fears were unfounded. She could clearly take care of herself. Both Ron and George stood open-mouthed, and Bill let out a cry of "Go, sis!"

Harry hurried over to Ginny and put his hands on her shoulders. To Rita, he said, "I think you'd better leave now. You can come back tomorrow. But only tomorrow. Understood?"

" _Hmmph!_ " Rita tried to look merely offended, but surrounded as she was by two women who looked as if they would happily tear her limb from limb AND the Minister for Magic, she decided that as dignified a retreat as possible was her best tactic. "Of course, Harry, of course! I was just being . . . over-eager, shall we say, at the prospect of such a romantic scene!" She reached out and pinched his cheek as a parting shot, and then, slipping quickly out of the reach of the bride and her mother. Rita Disapparated with a cavalier wave.

Molly turned back to the wedding party, a dark and forbidding look on her face. "Now, Harry dear, I think you have some explaining to do. I want to know just why I am expected to allow that . . . bitch to attend my daughter's wedding." She folded her arms over her bosom and fixed him with a penetrating gaze.

 

******  


 

  
Ginny stood with Harry by the garden gate, her fingers twined around his, not wanting to let go. The rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, both were over and done, and it was time for Harry to leave, to go back to their house alone for the last time.

"I can't believe it's tomorrow," she whispered. "We'll be married tomorrow." Ginny looked around. "And this is right where I was standing when you came and whisked me away to Hogwarts to propose." She leaned in and kissed him softly.

Harry let her hand go and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, then held her. "And you said yes." He pulled back. "Tomorrow you'll be Mrs. Potter. I like the sound of that."

"So do I," Ginny said, smiling as she stroked his hair back from his forehead, letting her fingers run through it slowly. "And tomorrow, after all this"—she waved a hand in the direction of the looming marquee—"circus is over, we can go back to our home, and start living happily ever after." She paused and looked deeply into Harry's eyes. "That's all I want, Harry. To make you happy, for the rest of your life."

"You already do," said Harry, then leaned in for another long, deep kiss. "But I suppose I should be going now, so that you can get some sleep. _We_ have a very big day ahead of us."

"And I have the idea my mother may make it seem even longer than it actually is," Ginny said with a grimace. "It's not that I don't love her for all she's doing, and I know how important it is to her to do all this for me, for us, but I still wish we could have eloped."

"Ginny, Harry?" Molly's voice sounded from the front door of the Burrow. "Are you out here? Harry, you must leave soon, it's not long before midnight. Bad luck for you to see Ginny the day of the wedding, before the ceremony, you know!"

Harry suppressed a giggle at Ginny's "see what I mean?" look. "She's right, you know," he said. "I should go." He looked around. "Do you realise that's that the last time I'll have to say that?"

Ginny took his hand. "I do realise that. And I'm not sure I'm going to be able to sleep tonight, thinking about it." She smiled, gave a huge sigh, and then started to lead Harry back toward the house, before her mother came out looking for them.

 

******  


 

  
Harry and Ron arrived back at Harry's house shortly thereafter, though it really was a struggle for Harry to say good night to Ginny. It was decided that Ron would spend the night so that Harry wouldn't have to be alone and so Hermione could stay over at the Burrow and help Ginny get ready before the wedding.

Kreacher had a warm bath waiting for Harry. It was intended to help relax him and help him sleep, but as he dried himself off and pulled on his robe, he found that sleep was the last thing he wanted. When they arrived home, Ron had gone to the guestroom and was asleep almost immediately, but Harry found his thoughts only on tomorrow. Now he sat on the large bed, staring out the window. By tomorrow night, he and Ginny would be married, would be together for life, and they would be here in this room, in this bed, making love for the first time. Suddenly he felt very lonely. He wished Ginny were here right now. She was probably asleep, Harry thought. But maybe . . .

Restless, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill from his dresser drawer and began to write. When he was finished, he opened the window and whistled softly. Uther would have finished hunting by now and should be perched on the tree in the yard. Sure enough, he flew quickly to Harry, eager for an assignment. Harry tied the scroll to his owl's leg and said, "Take this to Ginny." Uther hooted once and flew off, and Harry watched him climb over the trees toward the Burrow.

Ginny sat on the wide windowsill in her room, looking out over the orchard, now bathed in moonlight. It was almost her wedding day; she had never wanted anything so much in her life, and she had never felt such happiness.

After Harry had left, her mother had wanted to fuss over some last-minute details, but Ginny had merely smiled and watched as Hermione and Fleur had been corralled by her mum into helping. She just couldn't seem to focus on much. Finally, her mother had sent her up to bed, and Ginny went gladly, so she could be alone with her thoughts.

She turned and looked round her room; this would be her last night here. Tomorrow, she would be Harry's wife, and they would go home to their house, and sleep in their bed. Her cheeks suddenly felt warm as she thought of kissing Harry, of holding him, of touching him in all the ways she had been longing to for months . . . years really. Tomorrow, they would belong to each other, forever.

As she gazed out the window, thinking about such things, Ginny saw a dark shape moving through the sky with purpose, headed straight for her window. As it got closer, she realised what it was, and quickly threw open the sash for Uther, who glided into the room and landed on her desk. He held up his leg, looking at her very proudly; there was a piece of parchment bound to his leg, and he seemed to know just how important it was.

"Harry," Ginny breathed as she removed the parchment from Uther's leg and opened it quickly. Unrolling it, she began to read.  
  
  
 _Dear Ginny,_

_I don't know if you're still awake, and I hope Uther hasn't woken you. I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about you. There was something I wanted to say tonight, something I should have said a long time ago: Thank you. Thank you for agreeing to be my wife. I don't know what I'd do without you. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you._

_Love always,_  
Harry  
  
  
"Oh . . ." Ginny sighed softy, a single tear escaping to run down her cheek. She looked at Uther for a moment, and then searched for a quill in her desk. Flattening the parchment, she wrote her own brief message back and quickly wrapped it round Uther's leg, who was still holding it out patiently, waiting to carry back her reply.

"Take this back to him, Uther, and watch over him, until he comes to me tomorrow," Ginny whispered. She watched till the bird disappeared from sight, and then drifted over to her bed, lying down on it even though she was sure she would not sleep a wink.

"I love you, Harry Potter, and I always will," Ginny said quietly as she gazed out the window, waiting for morning.

 

End of Chapter 5. . . .   


 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny's wedding day has finally arrived, and brings with it surprises both welcome - Luna and her special gift, a decision from Ron - and unwelcome - Rita Skeeter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a multi-chapter story that starts out for General Audiences, but progresses to Mature and then Explicit in the last three chapters.

 

 

 

This is a work of fiction, which borrows characters created and/or owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros.,  
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, Raincoast Books, and Scholastic Inc. We do not own the characters, certainly no profit  
was made from the use of them, and no harm came to them in the course of writing the story.  
We return them to their owners with thanks.

****

****

**_CHAPTER 6_**  
  
  
It was Uther's incessant hooting that finally woke Harry from the rather pleasant dream he was having. "All right, I hear you," Harry said, throwing back the covers and stretching. The clock across the room confirmed that it was time to get up. Before he did, though, he took one last look at the bed—at the other side of the bed, that is. The place where Ginny would be lying tonight. _That_ was enough to get him up. On the way to the bathroom, he banged on the guestroom door. "Ron, get up," he called out.

The scent of bacon and eggs wafted from the kitchen. Kreacher, whose time would be divided between here and Grimmauld Place from now on, was busy preparing breakfast.

"Good morning, Master Harry," he said gruffly when Harry entered the room.

"Morning, Kreacher. Could you go upstairs and wake up Ron? I don't think he heard me."

Harry sniggered as Kreacher trudged out of the room and up the stairs, and a few minutes later he heard a piercing cry. Satisfied, Harry took a bite of toast.

 

******

 

  
"Ginevra Weasley, get yourself out of bed right now! You'll be late for your own wedding, for goodness' sake!"

Ginny smiled and shook her head. She was sitting in her window again, after a night of very little sleep, but she didn't feel the least bit tired. She had been watching the serving staff from the Leaky Cauldron rushing about out in the orchard as they prepared the tables for the reception, and postponing the moment when she would have to be a part of all the madness below.

And thinking of Harry. He'd be here soon, she knew, but her mother was not going to let them anywhere near each other before the ceremony, of that she was very certain. Ginny thought of how handsome he was going to look in his dress robes, and she suddenly had trouble breathing, her heart was so full of love for him.

A quiet knock on the door made her look up, and Ginny called out, "Come in!"

Hermione poked her head around the door. "Can I tell your mother you're up, before she works herself into a lather?"

Ginny giggled. "Yes, please do. Tell her you're helping me get ready, and then come back."

Hermione winked, disappeared for a moment, and then popped back into Ginny's room a moment later. She sat down on the desk and looked at Ginny, studying her carefully. "Are you ready?" she said quietly.

"I've been ready for months," Ginny assured her. The two of them looked at each other for another moment, and then burst into giggles. When they finally recovered, Ginny reached out and squeezed Hermione's hand. "Thank you. You've always believed in me and Harry, and you were the one who told me to be patient, and bide my time, all those years ago. And you were right."

Hermione smiled and squeezed back. "It was as plain as plain could be, as far as I was concerned—you two were meant for each other. I've always known it."

"I don't think I could possibly be any happier than I am this moment, you know?" Ginny said quietly, looking out the window again.

"Oh, you will be," Hermione said, nodding and smiling. "This is just the beginning."

Ginny looked back at her, at a loss for words and realising just how right Hermione was. But before she could think of what to say, her mother's voice came ringing up the stairs again.

"Both of you—down here, NOW! Breakfast is getting cold!"

"If I want to live to see my wedding," Ginny said, "we'd better get downstairs!" She grabbed her dressing gown and headed for the door, with Hermione right behind her.

 

******

 

  
"Bloody hell, Harry, why couldn't you just elope?" Ron groused, still cranky that he'd had to get up so early, as they headed up the walkway to the Burrow.

"Because your mum would kill me," Harry replied. Even from here he could hear the activity in the yard on the other side of the house.

Once inside, they were immediately ushered up the stairs and to Bill's old room, where their dress robes were hanging, perfectly ironed. Harry glanced out the window. Dozens of people were scurrying here and there, setting up tables, hanging lanterns, stringing up flowers. He sat on the bed and sighed. All he had to do was get through this day.

"Mum, I don't see why I can't go out and check the flowers myself! You have so much to do, I could at least handle that." Ginny was getting impatient, and a little cross because of it.

"Oh, no you don't!" Molly looked at her daughter sternly from the doorway. "The bride has to stay inside, or the groom might see her—you know the tradition, Ginny. What if Harry caught a glimpse of you before the wedding?"

"That was the plan, actually," Ginny muttered under her breath, and sank back into the chair in front of her desk. After breakfast, her mother had banished Ginny to her room, and the rest of the morning had dragged by. Ginny was getting more restless by the minute, and two o'clock could not come soon enough.

Molly ignored her daughter's complaints. "I'll be back in a moment with your dress, and we can start getting you ready. Not much longer now, dear. And Auntie Muriel should be here shortly, with the tiara. I hope she isn't late—everything has been going smoothly so far. Hermione, just stay with Ginny and keep her calm, won't you?" Molly bustled off, ticking off on her fingers the tasks still to be done, sure she was forgetting something.

Harry was buttoning his shirt when he happened to glance out the window again. Guests were starting to arrive, and Bill, Charlie, and Percy were mingling and escorting them to their seats. Harry noticed that a lot of them seemed to be Weasley relatives. He felt a twinge of jealousy, just a moment, that none of his relatives would be here to share this day.

There was a soft knock on the door; without waiting for an answer, Hermione popped into the room. "How's it going in here?" she said with a grin. "I had to get away from your mother for a moment, Ron, she's driving Ginny and me absolutely mad! But I can't stay long—we're about to start getting Ginny dressed! She beamed at Harry. "She's going to be absolutely beautiful, Harry. But you . . ." She frowned at him for a moment. "Can't we do something with your hair?" She advanced on him and started to fuss with his hair, trying to get it to stay down.

"Hermione! You shouldn't be in here!" squealed Ron, covering himself even though he was nearly fully dressed.

"Don't bother," groaned Harry. "It never lies flat. How is she? Really?"

Hermione stepped back and sighed in frustration, her efforts truly not having any effect whatsoever on Harry's hair. Then she smiled at him. "She is going absolutely spare . . . that she can't see you. She said to tell you that if she makes it to two o'clock without flattening her mother and anyone else in her way just to get to you, it will be a miracle." Hermione paused, and grinned slyly. "And she said, she'd send you a kiss, but she'd much rather wait till she can deliver it herself."

"So would I," Ron muttered, reading between the lines.

"Tell her," Harry started, then realized he had no idea what to say. "Tell her I can't wait to see her." He nodded as if in confirmation.

Hermione gave Ron an exasperated look, and then turned to raise an eyebrow at Harry. "Silly, she KNOWS that." She looked at him for a moment, and suddenly threw her arms around him. "You're going to be so happy together, you two," she whispered.

Hermione then went over to Ron and gave him a long, thorough kiss. Stroking his cheek, she said, "Now, let me get out of here before I start to cry, and embarrass the two of you to death. I've got to help get the bride ready!" And with a wave, she ran from the room.

"Blimey," Ron exclaimed, touching his cheek, "if this is how they act at weddings, I'm glad I'm not a girl."

Harry just shook his head and laughed. Then he caught his reflection in the full-length mirror. His hair stuck up in all directions, his shirttail remained untucked, and he hadn't even attempted his cummerbund. With a sigh, he began to straighten himself out.

Soon there was another knock on the door. This time, Arthur Weasley entered. "How are you boys doing? Almost ready?" he asked.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. It was clear from their expressions that neither was ready for this.

"Come now, Harry, this is the happiest day of your life. After this, it's all downhill."

"Dad!" Ron huffed.

"Just joking, son. Trying to relieve some tension. It's so thick in this room, the sword of Gryffindor couldn't cut through it." He noticed Harry trying to knot his bowtie. "Here, Harry, allow me. I've tied hundreds of these in my day."

Silently, Harry turned toward Mr. Weasley, his arms at his sides.

"You know, Harry, I didn't know your parents very well, but I'm sure if they were here, they'd be so very proud of you."

Harry looked down and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"Now, now, there'll be none of that. It's Arthur from now on. After all, you're family now, Harry." He had just finished with the tie and was straightening the bow. "There, all done." He patted Harry on the shoulder. "I'll see you boys downstairs. I need to check on the girls. At this rate, we'll be well into tomorrow by the time we walk down the aisle."

"See you later, Arthur," said Ron, when his father reached the door.

The elder Weasley turned and said sternly, "That's 'Dad' to you, son," and with a shake of his head, he left.

"Well," Harry said to Ron. "I guess we'd better go outside." He started to walk to the door, but then stopped in his tracks. "Hang on—do you have the ring?"

Ron froze. "Ring? What ring? I thought you had it?"

Harry spun around. "Ron! Please tell me you're joking."

Ron's face relaxed. "Of course I'm joking, Harry, I have it right here." And he patted his robes for emphasis.

Relieved, Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, and the two boys headed down the stairs and out into the yard, where Harry was immediately surrounded by well-wishers.

Ginny stood as patiently as she could while her mother fussed over her dress, adjusting here and there, smoothing down the skirt.

"Mum, it's not a complicated dress," she said finally. "It's perfect as it is."

"Yes, it really is," Hermione said with a smile. "And you look perfect in it." She sighed happily as she watched Mrs. Weasley continue to fuss, sure she had never seen a more beautiful dress. Satin with a lace bodice, all the colour of cream, which set off Ginny's hair perfectly. The Empire waist, long sleeves, and wide, almost off-the-shoulder neckline made the dress simple, and elegant; a wide ribbon sash circled the dress just below the bodice and flowed all the way down the back, right to the floor. It suited Ginny, and she looked simply . . . radiant.

Ginny sighed. "Is it two o'clock yet?"

"No, it's not," a loud voice rang out from the hallway. "And you're not going anywhere until you have this tiara on. No Weasley girl is going to be married without it!"

Ginny barely suppressed a groan as Auntie Muriel heaved herself into the room, puffing and wheezing from the climb up the stairs, and clutching her precious goblin tiara to her ample bosom.

"Here we go," she said, thrusting the tiara toward Ginny. "Let's get it on her and see how it looks." She studied Ginny's gown with a disapproving look. "Not white, Ginevra? Well, I suppose that colour looks better with your hair, so we can only hope that people don't talk." She raised an eyebrow at her niece and then dropped into the nearest chair. "Come on," she motioned authoritatively with her right hand. "Get those silly rosebuds out of her hair and let's see it on her!"

Ginny looked at Hermione, who was on the other side of her, rolled her eyes and sighed. "Is it two o'clock yet?" she repeated as she looked longingly out the window into the orchard, wishing she would catch a glimpse of Harry. Then she turned her attention back to her mother. "The rosebuds are staying," she said stubbornly.

Harry's hand was going numb from all of the wizards greeting him and congratulating him. Nearly all of the Hogwarts professors had arrived, and even old McGonagall gave him a hug from which Harry feared he would never escape. Every now and then he would glance up at Ginny's window, hoping to catch a glimpse, but she never appeared. He was beginning to get jittery and just wanted the whole thing over with so he could relax.

"Hello, Harry." Luna Lovegood drifted over toward him, the expression on her face as dreamy as her voice. "It was awfully nice of you and Ginny to invite me to your wedding. I like Ginny," she said, looking thoughtful. "She's always been very nice to me, you know."

"She'll be happy to see you, Luna. I'm really glad you could come."

"So am I," Ron muttered under his breath. "At least there will be some entertainment."

Harry shot Ron a dirty look and turned back to Luna. "We should be starting soon. Did you come alone?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I did," Luna replied, staring at Ron. "Daddy's still off on a hunt for a new Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn. He so wanted to find one in time to give it to you and Ginny as a wedding present. It's amazingly good luck for newlyweds to have a Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn in their new home, you know."

"I'll bet it is," said Ron, sniggering.

Harry lightly elbowed Ron, who grunted and tried to look serious. "Ron, why don't you show Luna to her seat? She can sit with Neville." With almost all of the guests here, Harry was anxious to get on with it.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur Weasley returned to the house, walked up the stairs, and knocked purposefully on Ginny's door. "Ginny, dear, it's time." He waited for permission to enter, and when he did, he nearly couldn't speak. With his hand over his heart, he said, "You look like an angel." Then he extended his arm. "Come, let's go for a walk, shall we?"

"I would love to, Dad." Ginny walked over to her father, stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and whispered to him, "Are you ready to give me away?"

"No, but I don't imagine I have a choice."

Outside, Harry began to pace. Bill and Percy had finally managed to get everyone settled, and much to Harry's delight, the seats on the groom's side were filled. Even Hagrid sat in the back, on a specially built bench. (Harry was relieved, however, to see that he'd left Grawp back at Hogwarts.) Even though his parents couldn't be here, he still had family.

Charlie had gone to retrieve his mother, whom he would be walking down the aisle first. Ron turned to Harry and said, "Are you ready for this?"

Harry looked at the sea of people and beyond, to the house where he'd been so welcomed all these years. He nodded. He'd never been more ready. Or more terrified. Not because he was marrying Ginny, but because he wasn't sure he would be able to make her happy.

But there was no time to dwell on that. The small orchestra brought in to play the music Ginny had selected for her wedding march began to play. Harry took a deep breath and waited.

As Ginny walked out of the house on her father's arm, she saw the crowd of people assembled under the marquee and her breath caught for a moment. _It's really happening,_ Ginny thought to herself, and she held on tightly to her dad's arm, her knees feeling a little weak—she was almost dizzy with happiness. As they walked through the garden toward the orchard, each step made Ginny both more excited and more content than she had ever been in her life. She was about to marry the love of her life, and despite what Hermione had told her this morning, she still felt as if she could never be any happier than she was at that moment.

And then she and her father were standing at the edge of the marquee, about to head down the aisle. And there, waiting for her at the other end, was Harry. Ginny looked at him, and tears of joy welled up in her eyes. She knew she could never want anything more from life than to be at his side, for the rest of their lives.

When Ginny appeared under the lip of the marquee, Harry couldn't breathe. It had been only less than a day since he'd last seen her, but she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. _I don't deserve her,_ he thought to himself. _Whatever it takes, I'm going to make her happy._ He swallowed and composed himself, because he felt on the verge of tears. From now on, he would never be alone.

Ginny walked slowly down the aisle, knowing that she was surrounded by people—family, friends, well-wishers—but she couldn't see them, couldn't hear them. For her, there was only one person under the marquee. She smiled at Harry, her eyes fixed on him as she made her way, hardly even aware of the warm weight of her father's hand on hers as he guided her.

Harry's heart was beating so wildly he thought it would burst right out of his chest. He couldn't imagine anyone being more beautiful than the woman walking towards him right now. It was all worth it, all of it, for this moment.

Arthur Weasley now stood before Harry, and he took Ginny's small hand and placed it in Harry's. He placed a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead and said, to Harry, "She's all yours, Harry. Take good care of her."

"I will, sir," replied Harry gravely. He watched as Mr. Weasley took his seat next to his wife, who was already in tears. Then he turned to Ginny and nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off her, not even when Kingsley Shacklebolt began to speak.

"Fellow wizards and witches," he said, his voice full of authority. "You know why we're here today. No one deserves more happiness than this young man standing before us, and his lovely bride . . ."

As the Minister spoke, Harry listened, but his attention was more focused on Ginny than on anything else.

Ginny could hear Kingsley Shacklebolt speaking, but the words themselves registered in her mind no more at this moment than did any of the people around her. Only that through his words, she and Harry were being joined, in love, for the rest of their lives—this was all that mattered to her. The rest of it—the ceremony, the guests, the food, the dress—she could have done without in a second.

"I love you," she whispered to Harry, under the Minister's voice, and squeezed his hand.

Shacklebolt paused, smiled at the radiant bride and groom, and then continued, his voice ringing out strong and clear.

"Do you, Harry James, take Ginevra Molly . . . ?"

With Ginny's hand securely in his, Harry listened to every word of this. Everything Shacklebolt said, Harry engraved in his mind. And when the Minister finished speaking, Harry looked directly in Ginny's eyes and said, firmly, "I do." He lifted her hand and placed the small gold band on her ring finger, and for just a moment he imagined his father doing this very same thing with his mother on their wedding day. _Beyond magic,_ he mouthed to Ginny.

"Do you, Ginevra Molly, take Harry James . . . ?"

Ginny's gaze was fixed on Harry, her eyes blazing with love for him as she waited for Shacklebolt to come to the end of her vow. When he did, she smiled at Harry and, in a quiet, tender voice, said, "I do." She turned towards Hermione just long enough to take Harry's wedding band from her, and slid it onto the ring finger of his hand. _For always,_ she mouthed back to him.

Shacklebolt beamed down on them, and raised his hands up, palms facing the assembled crowd. "Now it is my privilege to declare you, Harry, and you, Ginevra . . . bonded for life."

There was a moment when no one moved, then Shacklebolt broke the silence. "Well, go on, kiss her!"

Harry blushed, then leaned in and, in front of his friends, teachers, and now family, kissed his wife for the first time. The crowd broke out in applause, but Harry didn't hear. The only thing he heard was his own heartbeat.

Ginny slipped her arms round Harry and returned his kiss with all her heart. She knew they couldn't stay this way forever—even though she would have, gladly—but she was not ready to let go of him just yet, no matter how many people were waiting and watching. When they finally did break the kiss, reluctantly, Ginny kept her arms around him and touched her forehead to his. "Hello, husband," she whispered.

"Hello, Mrs. Potter," Harry whispered back.

Ron cleared his throat, and Harry finally woke from his stupor. He looked to the crowd, who were on their feet. He turned to his best friend and said, "Thank you."

"Any time, mate," replied Ron, embarrassed.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione launched herself at him, eyes glistening with tears. "That was so . . . so amazing!" She wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, almost knocking him over before turning to Ginny. "I can't believe you two are finally married!" She gave Ginny an exuberant hug as well, tears now running down her cheeks.

"Oh, Arthur! Isn't she just the most beautiful bride?" Molly wailed as she clung to her husband's arm, dabbing at her eyes with a very damp handkerchief. Suddenly she was on her feet, hurrying toward them. Hermione just managed to get out of her way before Molly clutched Ginny to her bosom. "I'm s-s-o happy that you're happy!" Her tears began flowing all over again as she reached out, trying to drag Harry into her embrace.

Harry could barely breathe, but he endured Mrs. Weasley's embrace because he knew how emotional this day was for her.

"Molly, dear," Arthur implored, "you're going to suffocate them before their honeymoon."

Ginny gently prised her mother's arms from around her neck. "Yes, Mum, Dad's right. I like Harry just the way he is—breathing." As soon as she had untangled herself, she kissed her mother on the cheek, and then pulled her father closer to do the same. "Thank you, both of you," Ginny said softly, tears in her eyes. "This is the most wonderful day of my life, and you've done so much to make it so. I love you both, more than I can say."

She gathered them both into one swift, tight hug, and then stepped back, reaching for Harry's hand. "And now, I think it's time to celebrate!" Ginny smiled at Harry, and then leaned in to kiss him again. "Shall we walk down the aisle, and get things started?"

 

******

 

  
It was an afternoon of festivity. There wasn't a moment when someone wasn't pumping Harry's hand, kissing him on the cheek, or hugging him. It was a seemingly never-ending feast, and the drinks flowed freely.

"I do think, Ginny, this is the loveliest wedding I've ever been to." Luna drifted up to Harry and Ginny's table and dropped down to sit on the grass beside them. Neville was right behind her, rolling his eyes at Harry before giving Ginny a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and seating himself in a chair.

"But it's an awful lot of work, too," Luna continued dreamily. "During the ceremony, I had to move from one side of the tent to the other several times—because you're both my friends, you see. And there are so many interesting people to meet. Like that man over there." She pointed vaguely to Harry's left.

Harry looked in the direction Luna was gesturing. "That's Dedalus Diggle," he said. "Do you know him?"

Luna stared at Harry, her eyes even wider than usual. "His real name is Jeroboam Clavelin. He invented the most powerful Forgetfulness Potion ever known to wizardkind. Only no one knows it, because he makes them drink it as soon as they realize who he really is."

Ron looked at Hermione and stifled a giggle. Harry cleared his throat. "Is that so?" he said.

"I'm sure he won't dare bother Harry Potter—he'd be afraid of the Ministry finding out. Do keep an eye on the rest of your guests, though, won't you? But don't worry about me; I'll go do my Wrackspurt dance now, and I'll be fine." Luna rose suddenly from her seat on the ground. "That helps keep him off guard, too. Be careful, Harry." And Luna wandered away, waving her arms lazily above her head as she twirled her way through the tables.

Ginny watched her go, smiling fondly. "She really is quite dear, isn't she, Harry?" she asked, reaching out to hold his hand.

Luna was just one of the many guests Harry and Ginny mingled with that afternoon. Harry lost count of how many people approached them to congratulate them. Even old McGonagall shed a tear or two when she reminisced about their first days at Hogwarts.

While Ginny and Harry were walking among the crowd of people, Hermione decided she needed to check up on one guest in particular. She had seen Rita Skeeter skulking around under the marquee all afternoon, no doubt looking for "different angles" on the happy couple's day, and Hermione was determined to get a glimpse of what the woman had been writing. She finally spotted the reporter at a small table at the back of the tent, busily dictating to her Quick Quotes Quill.

"The glow that is the natural accoutrement of any bride was certainly present all about Ginny Potter, née Weasley, today," Rita intoned as she carefully monitored the quill's scratching, "enhancing her . . . charming, girl-next-door features and transforming her into an astonishing vision of nuptial loveliness. It is easy to see how she turned the head of our Chosen One—"

"Rita Skeeter!" Auntie Muriel's voice boomed out as she approached the table, grabbed a chair, and plopped herself down right next to Rita, whom Hermione could see was looking rather askance at her new companion. "I _love_ your columns, tell all my friends to read them! I think it's wonderful that Arthur and Molly had the good sense to invite you."

She snapped her fingers at a passing waiter and scooped two glasses of champagne from his tray, pressing one on Rita. "This is the wedding of the decade, you know, and being one of the family's favourite aunts, I can certainly give you all the inside information you need. Here, let me see what you've got already." And with that, she snatched the parchment pad out of mid-air and proceeded to read and offer her corrections to the scandalised reporter.

Hermione giggled gleefully and turned to make her way back to her own table, and Ron. She had no doubt that Auntie Muriel's attention would leave no room for Rita to misbehave—at least for a while.

The celebration lasted well into the night, and as the sun set, the band struck up the first notes of Harry and Ginny's first dance as bride and groom.

The crowd formed a large circle around the dance floor, and Harry, nervous about performing in front of so many people, took Ginny's hand and led her to the center. He leaned in and whispered, "The only thing that's going to save me from completely embarrassing myself is you."

Ginny laughed and shook her head. "Harry, no one here today really cares how good a dancer you are." She slipped one arm around his shoulders, and curled the fingers of her other hand around his. "Least of all me." She nuzzled his cheek for a moment before kissing it softly. Then she pulled back and looked upward for a moment, as if she was considering something. "Well, hang on a minute. Auntie Muriel might be wanting to give you some pointers . . ."

"Great. As long as she doesn't make _me_ wear a tiara." The music continued playing, and before long Harry was lost in the dance. The day had been more than he could ever have hoped for. He had married the woman he loved. Death Eaters hadn't crashed the wedding. Even Hagrid seemed to be having a good time. Soon he and Ginny would return to their house and make love for the first time. He tried not to think too much about it, not now, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help picturing his wife slipping out of her dress and standing before him naked . . .

Everyone thought Harry and Ginny would be going on their honeymoon tomorrow. Since Harry had never really been outside of the U.K., he and Ginny were going to take a month-long trip through Europe, beginning in Paris and visiting all of the places that had strong wizarding communities—Bavaria, Transylvania, Verona. The truth was, however, that they weren't leaving until the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would spend the day in their new house, lying in bed, making love for hours, completely undisturbed.

Ron watched from the sidelines, then said to Hermione, "I reckon we shouldn't leave him in the lurch like that," and gestured with his elbow for her to take it so he could lead her out on the dance floor. This was the moment he'd been preparing for all day. "I've been thinking, Hermione . . ."

Ginny rested her cheek against Harry's, swaying with him in time to the music. As more and more people took to the dance floor and less constant attention was being paid to them, she nestled her body in to fit against his, until they were close enough that she could feel his warmth and even his heart beating against hers. Soon . . . She sighed as she thought of all this fuss and ceremony being over at last, of leaving with Harry to go to their home, of finally being alone with her husband. At last, they would be able to touch, to kiss, to love each other as much and as long as they wanted, with no need ever again to hold themselves back.

Ginny shivered, a tiny bit nervous but mostly excited beyond anything she had imagined. She moved her lips closer to Harry's ear and started to whisper, "How soon do you think—" But she was cut off by a shrill scream that suddenly sounded from the middle of the dance floor. Her heart in her throat, Ginny's head whipped around to see what was happening.

"Oh, _RON!_ "

Hermione was wrapped around the object of her delight, hugging him so tightly, Ginny wasn't sure whether Ron was turning red from embarrassment or lack of air. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then turned back to Harry with a puzzled expression. "What is going on there?"

"He finally came to his senses, is what," Harry replied, laughing. He caught Ron's eye and nodded, glad to see Hermione happy at last.

"He's actually, finally asked her?" Ginny was open-mouthed in surprise. "Well, it's about time, the silly git." She giggled and then snuggled back into Harry's arms. "Who'd have ever thought my brother could be so romantic—to actually ask her to marry him at our wedding? But, speaking of romantic . . . I was about to ask you a question." Ginny kissed Harry's cheek and then whispered again, "How soon do you think we can get out of here, husband, and go home?" She nipped at his ear before leaning back to look at him, her eyes shining.

Harry's eyes darted around; he hoped no one caught the flush that was spreading on his cheeks. "Not soon enough, I'm afraid. I've a feeling I'm going to have to prise you away from your mum. But when I do, I'm going to Apparate us back to the house and . . ." The rest he whispered hotly in Ginny's ear.

"Ahhh!" Ginny said softly, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel herself blushing, but still, she whispered back, "Not if I don't do it first." With a wicked grin, she kissed Harry quickly and then said, "Why don't you go dance with my mum now, and I'll go find Dad. The sooner we get all this dancing over with, the sooner we can . . . go home."

But it wasn't soon enough. The band kept playing, and it was nearly midnight when the guests began to slowly leave. Harry wasn't the least bit tired, though. For him, the evening had just begun, and he only hoped he and Ginny could get through the good-byes quickly.

After having his face squeezed and kissed and being hugged for what felt like the hundredth time, there was only a small crowd left. Harry approached Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I just want to thank you for everything you've done," he said.

"Harry, it was our pleasure," Arthur said, shaking his hand firmly.

"Harry dear," Molly said gently, gathering him into one last hug. "I've thought of you as my son for years; today is just another chance for me to say so." She pulled back at last, and took his face in her hands, beaming as tears of joy ran down her cheeks. "I couldn't love you more if you _were_ one of my own."

Even after all these years, Harry was still not completely comfortable with this much affection at once. He simply nodded and muttered, "Thank you."

"Mum, let him go before you squash him to death," Ron said irritably.

Molly turned on him with a glare. "And shouldn't it be YOUR wedding I'm dancing at, too, Ronald Weasley? Don't you want to make your mother happy? I think it's about time—"

Ron glanced at Hermione and Harry, then muttered, "Don't worry, you'll get your wedding. Come on, Harry, we'd better escort you to the gate before someone else tries to hug you to death."

Hermione turned away quickly, hiding her joyful smile from Mrs. Weasley for the moment. She and Ron had agreed to wait until after Ginny and Harry's day was over to announce their happy news, so as not to steal any of their glory. "Come on, Ginny, we'll see you off."

"Just one minute." Ginny moved quickly, kissing and hugging her mother and escaping before she could be pulled into yet another crushing hug, and then stood on tiptoe to kiss her father's cheek. "Thanks, Mum, thanks, Dad," she said quietly, a tear running down her cheek. "You're the best—I hope you know how much I love you." And with that, she turned back to Harry, took his hand, and the four of them headed for the gate.

"Well," Harry began when they were finally out of earshot, "I imagine congratulations are in order. It's about time, Ron."

"I didn't really have much choice, did I?" Ron deadpanned, then at Hermione's and Ginny's glares, added, "I'm just joking!" and laughed.

Harry looked at Hermione and said, "Thank you for all your help."

"Harry, do you really think we would have let you do this by yourself?" Hermione shook her head in exasperation, and then kissed him on the cheek. "This is . . ."—she stepped back and linked her arm through Ron's—"well, it's the _second_ -happiest day of my life."

Ginny smiled. "And we'll be sisters soon—isn't it fantastic? Just don't let him drag his heels _too_ long, okay?" She made a face at Ron, and then laughed softly, stepping up to kiss him on the cheek as well. "You're all right, though, aren't you, big brother? Thanks—for letting Harry marry me." She winked at him, and then went back to Harry, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Ron shuffled his feet and shrugged. "Can I have a word with you?"

Ginny stared at Ron for a moment, then looked at Harry and Hermione, and back at Ron, feeling as if she'd been Confunded for a moment. "Um . . . sure." Squeezing Harry's hand, she followed Ron as he moved a few steps away.

Puzzled, Harry watched as Ron pulled Ginny aside. He hoped that Ron wouldn't say anything hurtful, so he waited, ready to step in if need be.

Ron gazed up at the sky and shoved his hands in his pockets. Finally, he spoke. "Look, you're my sister, and Harry's my mate. I just want you to know . . . I'm happy for you. And . . ."

"Well, it's about bloody time you said it!" Ginny said with a laugh, swatting him. "So glad we finally have your approval, dear brother!"

Ron grabbed his arm and scowled. "Just . . . take care of him, all right?"

Ginny gaped at him, absolutely and completely gobsmacked. Of all the things she had even _guessed_ Ron might say, this had not been one of them.

"Oh, Ron," she whispered, tears threatening. "For the rest of his life, I'll be there." And she threw her arms around his neck, holding him very tight.

Ron rolled his eyes but hugged his sister nonetheless. "Go on," he said, embarrassed. "Harry's waiting."

Watching Ginny, Harry realized that this was just as big a moment for his new wife as it was for her family. They were finally letting her go.

Walking back toward Harry, Ginny wiped at her eyes, and smiled at Hermione. "He's all yours," she said, nodding back at Ron. Then she went up to Harry, took both his hands in hers, and kissed him gently.

"Take me home," she whispered.

"Gladly," Harry whispered back, smiling. It was done. They were married. After all these years, after all they'd been through, they were now husband and wife, and were about to begin their new life together.

He led Ginny away from Ron and Hermione, looked back over his shoulder and waved, and Disapparated with his wife to their new home.

 

End of Chapter 6

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny's wedding night - we all know what this means. 
> 
> This is the explicit chapter, and the end of this PART of Harry and Ginny's life together. A sequel, "The Only Magic" will be posted soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a multi-chapter story that starts out for General Audiences, but progresses to Mature and then Explicit in the last three chapters.
> 
> Chapter 7 is the final chapter of this story.

This is a work of fiction, which borrows characters created and/or owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, Raincoast Books, and Scholastic Inc. We do not own the characters, certainly no profit was made from the use of them, and no harm came to them in the course of writing the story. We return them to their owners with thanks.

 

 

**_CHAPTER 7_**  
  
  
Ginny wobbled a little as they popped onto the walk in front of their home, and clutched Harry's arm a little tighter. "Oh! Either I had too much champagne," she giggled, "or this path is uneven!" Then she let go of Harry and stroked his cheek. "I can't believe it—we're finally married," she said quietly. "And we're finally alone."

"Yes, we are," Harry said. He, too, was feeling the effects of the drinks that had seemed to always be placed in his hand without his even asking. "And since you can't seem to walk, I'll just have to carry you." With that, Harry swept Ginny up into his arms and carried her easily to the front door. Once there, he pulled out his wand and waved it at the door, and it swung open. "Welcome home, Mrs. Potter," he said, grinning.

Ginny had her arms wrapped around Harry's shoulders, but she let her head hang back and laughed softly, a sound of pure joy. "Our home, forever, Harry," she said, feeling breathless. "I'm going to make you so happy here . . ." Ginny hugged him then, and breathed in his scent, his warmth, and then—because now, she could do anything she wanted—Ginny began to nuzzle her way past his collar, kissing his neck and murmuring softly as she did.

They were barely inside the door and already Harry felt himself growing aroused. Without wasting any more time, he Apparated them upstairs and into the master bedroom, which was bathed in moonlight from the many large windows. He moved to the bed and laid Ginny gently on it. Once again, he pulled out his wand and turned in a circle around the room. Candles had been placed all around—on tables, shelves, the fireplace mantle. He lit each one until warm candlelight flickered and cast a soft glow.

"It's so beautiful," Ginny sighed, watching Harry as he moved around the room. When he turned to face her again, she smiled up at him, and took the rosebud wreath from her hair, dropping it to the floor beside the bed. Then, Ginny held out her arms to him. "Harry . . . come to me," she whispered.

Harry swallowed, realizing that now it really was just the two of them, that there would be no interruptions and no reason to stop, and suddenly he was nervous. What if he wasn't any good at this? What if he disappointed Ginny?

Then he looked down at his beautiful wife and saw nothing but love in her eyes. She knew him since they were children. She never judged him. She didn't love him because he was the Chosen One. She accepted him as he was, faults and scars and all.

He moved to the bed and climbed on top. He reached out and touched Ginny's face and leaned in and very softly kissed her.

Ginny felt every part of her body tingle as Harry settled on top of her, as his lips touched hers. At long last, Harry was her husband, she was his wife, and they could love each other, completely. She felt no trace of nervousness, only an excitement and a desire for him that was stronger than anything she had ever felt before. "Harry, I love you," she whispered against his lips as she pulled him in for a deeper, more lingering kiss.

Harry settled more comfortably on top of Ginny, and as the kiss deepened, he boldly slipped his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her desire.

Ginny moaned quietly, wrapping her arms tightly around Harry's shoulders as their kiss grew more intense. She sucked gently on his tongue, drawing him in deeper and then teasing him with her own, letting him know that she only wanted more of him . . . all of him.

Emboldened by Ginny's reactions, Harry let his hands wander down Ginny's body—to her slender waist, the curve of her hips, and up to her breasts, which seemed to swell under her gown and beg to be touched.

As Harry caressed her, Ginny was amazed at what she began to feel—it was like he had never laid hands on her before, the pleasure from his touch was so much more than it had ever been. It took her breath away to think this was only the beginning, that they were not going to stop, and this pleasure would only grow more intense, for both of them.

She pulled back from their kiss, gasping and stroking his face over and over again. "Harry," she panted, "I want to touch you . . . your skin . . . all over. We should . . . get out of . . ." She tugged at the lapels of his robes, gulping for air.

"Clothes," Harry murmured. He reluctantly pushed himself off Ginny and stood up, equally breathless. Then he gazed down at his beautiful bride and held out his hand.

Ginny let Harry pull her up off the bed, and she came into his arms once she was standing, hugging him to her tightly. As she held him, she could feel, through his robes and trousers, how much he wanted her, how aroused he was already. Ginny breathed in deeply, and then kissed his cheek. "Can you help me?" she whispered, and then turned round so her back was to him. "I can't reach the fastenings myself." Ginny waited, trembling slightly and clasping her hands in front of her.

Harry found himself wishing there was a spell for this. He'd never seen such delicate buttons before, and he was sure his clumsy fingers would make a mess of this. "Erm," he stammered, but he tried anyway. One by one, he undid each satin button, and as they slipped free of their clasps, Ginny's fair, smooth skin was exposed. Harry couldn't resist kissing each patch of skin, from her neck down to the spot between her shoulder blades, and when the gown was open at her waist, he slid it off her shoulders.

As soon as she felt Harry's fingers on her shoulders, pushing the satin aside, Ginny whirled to face him, keeping her arms at her sides so the gown would slip down. She held as still as she could, letting it slide against her skin until she had to help it along. Then she tugged just enough so that the gown slithered into a pool at her feet, with a faint whisper from the fabric as it fell. She stepped out of it, and stood before Harry for a moment, now clad in nothing but her white silk underthings and stockings. Ginny's heart pounded in her chest as she stepped up to Harry and began to loosen the fastenings on his robes.

Harry stared openmouthed at the vision before him. For a moment, he couldn't move—he simply stood there while Ginny undid his robes, the only sound their breathing and the rustle of fabric as it slid to the floor.

Ginny undid each button of Harry's shirt slowly and carefully, and as she exposed his chest, she uttered a soft sigh of wonder. She had only ever caught brief, stolen glimpses of his body up till now, and could scarcely believe he was now hers to touch, for the rest of their lives. Ginny placed her hand in the center of Harry's chest, feeling the thick, coarse hair scratch against her palm. His skin was warm, and his heart thumped wildly against each stroke of her fingers. She looked into his eyes, and smiled shyly. "Don't . . . don't be afraid to touch me, Harry. I belong to you, always and forever."

As Ginny opened his shirt, Harry brought his hands to her front, gently caressing her soft skin. "You're so beautiful," he said quietly. "How did I get so lucky?"

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, shivering slightly with pleasure from his touch. Then she opened them and began to push Harry's shirt off his shoulders. She leaned in and began to kiss her way across his collarbone; as she did, she murmured, "I ask myself the same question every day." Then Ginny brought her mouth to meet his, and slowly, gently, sucked his lower lip in between hers.

Harry kissed her back, more urgently, with abandon. He slipped his hands behind Ginny's back and quickly unfastened her bra, which fell to the floor. Now, for the first time, he placed his hands on his wife's breasts, and the sensation was such as he'd never experienced before. They were firm and supple, and Harry felt as though he could touch them all night and be perfectly happy.

Moaning quietly, Ginny stopped what she was doing and covered Harry's hands with her own for a moment, encouraging him to go on. She pulled her mouth away from his, gasping. "Oh, Harry . . . that feels . . . so wonderful . . . don't stop!" She was breathing much faster now, and she began to tear at his shirt, trying to get it off him, so she could touch him even more, too.

Harry didn't want to take his hands away, but he knew if he didn't they'd never get his shirt off, and the sooner they removed their clothes, the sooner they could explore each other's bodies. So he reluctantly dropped his hands, and when his shirt slid off his shoulders and joined Ginny's gown on the floor, he drew her in for another long, deep kiss, during which his hands returned to her enticing breasts.

Ginny returned his kiss hungrily, feeling almost lightheaded as Harry's hands went back to exploring her breasts. It felt even more amazing than she'd imagined; she was sure she would never get enough of this. But she wanted to touch him, too, so as their kiss went on, Ginny brought her hands to Harry's torso, stroking from his shoulders to his waist, first on his sides, and then down the front of his body. Her fingers hesitated when she found his nipples, and she began to trace her fingers around each stiff little nub, sighing against his lips as she did.

Harry moaned, having never been touched like this before and finding he liked it very much. Breathing heavily, now, he said, "Ginny," and began kissing his way over to her ear and down to her neck. Soon his hands began to wander lower, too, grazing her stomach and traveling around to her back, where they slipped inside the waistband of her silky knickers and cupped her firm bottom.

Ginny gasped softly, taken a little by surprise at Harry's hands caressing her bum—she'd been so intent on exploring him freely for the first time, she hadn't noticed what he was doing. "Oh, Harry," she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his and enjoying his warm, firm grip on her bottom. This touching and holding and exploring was what she had been waiting so impatiently for, and it was even more glorious than she had imagined, to finally let her hands roam over Harry's body and feel his hands on her. Ginny's fingers trailed down over his stomach and begin to search for the fastenings on his trousers, as her breathing turned ragged and shallow.

Harry could feel Ginny's hands near his crotch; he was completely aroused and was sure Ginny would discover that soon enough. He gave her bum a gentle squeeze as he waited to be freed from the constriction of his trousers.

The button popped open easily under her fingers, and as she slid the zipper of his trousers down, Ginny could feel how hard Harry was, how much he wanted her. Gently, slowly, she slipped her hand inside, curving her fingers around him as she raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Oh . . ." she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him again.

A low sound escaped Harry's throat as he came to life under Ginny's hand, and he kissed her back with more urgency. "Ginny," Harry breathed against her face, "I want you so badly."

Ginny sighed. "Now, you can have me, Harry." She clutched at his shoulders, trembling from the strength of her desire. Then, suddenly, she remembered, and shook her head as if to clear it. "Wait, Harry, I have to—"

Curious and concerned, Harry pulled back. "What? What's wrong?"

Blushing a little, Ginny knelt down and retrieved her wand from the hidden pocket in her gown. "I-I've been to our family healer," she explained as she stood and moved back a step or two, "and she performed the basic spell, but I have to, um, reinforce it ever time we . . ." Ginny lowered her eyes, the flush on her cheeks even more pronounced. "Every time we make love," she whispered.

Ginny slowly traced a circle low over her belly with her wand and said, " _Arceo graviditas._ " She put her wand on the bedside table and then stepped back into Harry's embrace, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "It's a sort of shield charm," she explained in a soft voice. "No babies yet—I want you to myself for a while."

Relieved that Ginny's hesitation was nothing more than an act of birth control, Harry repeated, "No babies. Yet. Someday, though. When we're both ready." He knew a little about wizard forms of birth control but had just assumed that since he and Ginny were married, they wouldn't need to worry about any of that. But she was right—it was too soon to start a family, and although he very much wanted children, he and Ginny were both still young and had plenty of time for that. They had their futures together.

For now, though, they would make love as long and often as they wanted. And right now, Harry very much wanted. He leaned in and kissed Ginny tenderly this time and placed one hand on her belly, in the same spot where she had just waved her wand.

Ginny caressed Harry's face with one hand as she kissed him back, her mouth soft against his and her kiss slow and lingering. Her other hand moved down until it covered his, on her stomach. With a slow, shivery breath out, Ginny began to gently guide his hand, sliding it over the silky fabric of her knickers, until his fingers were nestled between her legs.

As Harry's hand began to caress the warmth between Ginny's legs, he returned her kiss more passionately. Unwilling to wait any longer, he reached for the waistband of her knickers and began to lower them, over her hips, down her thighs, until she stood before him clad in only her stockings. Ginny resisted the instinct to cover herself, standing very still for a moment as she breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes fixed on Harry. "This is the first time," she whispered, stepping closer and putting her hands on his shoulders, "that you've . . . seen me, Harry. I-I hope . . ."

"You're beautiful," he said quickly, before she could finish. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." And he meant it. He touched her hair, her cheek, her chin, and as he did so, he began to walk them back toward the bed.

Ginny couldn't keep her hands off him as they moved; she stroked his hair, his face, his chest over and over again, and bestowed quick little kisses on his lips, stopping only when the backs of her knees made contact with the bed. Then she stopped, sighed, and quickly rolled down her stockings, throwing them onto the pile of clothing that was growing on the floor. Now she was completely naked, and she stood before her husband with a shy smile. "I think you're still a bit overdressed, Harry," Ginny said quietly, and began tugging at his trousers, trying to pull them down over his hips.

Harry's cock pressed uncomfortably against his pants, so he kicked off his shoes quickly and helped Ginny remove his trousers. His face hot, he reached for his pants and began to lower them, and as he did so, his cock sprang to life.

"Oh!" Ginny gasped quietly, and then covered her mouth with her hand. A rush of heat flowed through her body as she looked at Harry, finally seeing him completely naked for the first time. She wasn't frightened, of course; this was her husband, the man she loved and had loved most of her life. But she was a bit nervous. Soon, very soon, they would be making love, Harry would be . . . inside her, and Ginny wanted very much to give him all the pleasure she could. She stepped closer and put her hands on his shoulders again, fitting her body against his so that she could feel his cock, warm and throbbing, pressed against her skin.

Ginny's body felt so small and delicate against Harry's that he was almost afraid to touch her. But he did, and with her body pressed so tightly to his, he sensed that she wanted him as much as he did her. He also knew that they would know only each other for the rest of their lives, so he was determined to make this first time as pleasurable for Ginny as he knew it would be for him. Slowly, he lowered her to the bed and climbed on top.

It was amazing to Ginny how . . . exciting it was, just to have Harry on top of her. Nothing at all between them, skin to skin . . . She loved the feel of his body covering hers, pressing her down into the bed, so much so that she could feel a new wave of heat blossoming in her belly and rippling down to a very distinct spot between her legs. It was so intense, this heat, it left her breathless. Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry, holding him tightly, as if he might disappear if she didn't. "Harry," she murmured in his ear, "I love you . . . I want you, so much."

Harry propped himself up so that he could look at Ginny when he asked, "Are you frightened?"

"Oh, Harry." Ginny stroked his cheek and then lifted herself up to kiss his lips gently. "I could _never_ be frightened of you, ever. But I am a little . . . nervous. This is our first time." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I want you to . . . I mean, I want to make you happy, to give you pleasure, and what if I don't?" She blushed again as she stroked his cheek.

"You make me so happy, Ginny. Happier than I've ever been." He looked at her seriously. "But Ginny, I . . . I don't want to hurt you."

"Harry, please don't worry about that. You're not going to hurt me." Running her hands over his back, Ginny urged Harry down into her arms again. "Please, let's make love. Now."

Harry swallowed and nodded, and he allowed Ginny to embrace him. With their bodies pressed so tightly together, there was no turning back. Not that he'd ever consider it. But he wanted to make this last, and he wanted to make Ginny's first time special. So he kissed her and began to touch her again. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off her breasts. Soon, though, he found himself wanting more, so he began to kiss his way down her neck, to her collarbone, and then lower.

Ginny moaned quietly as Harry's lips traced a path down her neck and onto her chest. She had always known it would be beautiful, when they finally were able to give themselves to each other, but she hadn't expected feelings as intense as this before they were actually joined. Ginny knew where Harry's kisses were headed, and suddenly, she felt she might scream if he didn't get there right this minute. Ginny ran her fingers through his hair, murmuring as she closed her eyes and urged Harry on.

Harry moved over to the right and captured one of Ginny's tight peaks in his mouth. He'd longed to do this for so many years. He sucked the nub and nipped it, and he thought he would come right then, it was so pleasurable.

Crying out softly, Ginny cradled Harry's head with both hands and held him close as he licked and sucked at her breast. For months, she had been wondering, "What will it feel like when we . . ." Now they were discovering each other, and it was incredible. Her whole body tingled, the sharp thrill of new sensations flashing under her skin all the way from where Harry's mouth was tasting her down to that spot between her legs that was already throbbing.

As he moved to Ginny's other breast, Harry felt as though he could do this all night. But he knew that soon he would have to move things along, because he didn't think he would last much longer without being inside the woman he loved. He ached to be inside her, to be joined with her. At last he kissed his way back up and gazed into her eyes. As he did, he reached between her legs, to the warm, moist place waiting to be explored.

A gasp of surprise and pleasure escaped her at Harry's touch. His fingertips had only grazed that tiny nub hidden within her cleft, but already Ginny felt as if she might explode, the sensations were so intense. "Oh, Harry," she moaned, clutching at his shoulders. "That's so . . . oh, _please,_ Harry!"

Harry had no idea what he was doing, but it seemed to please Ginny, so he continued to rub this sweet spot and began to kiss her again, moving over to her ear this time, where he whispered hotly, "Ginny, I want you so badly."

"I want . . . you, too . . . Harry." Ginny was panting now, she was so aroused. He was driving her mad as he teased and explored her, and she was sure there was nothing else in the world as wonderful and amazing as Harry's touch there, in this most secret part of her body. She'd never guessed it would feel this good . . . and they still were not actually making love.

Ginny groaned, running her hands down Harry's back and then around to his front. She managed to get her hand between them, and wrapped her fingers carefully around Harry's cock. He was so hot, so hard . . . Ginny gasped again, and then began to kiss Harry, on his lips, his chin, his throat . . . Between kisses, she pleaded in a rough whisper, "Please, Harry, now!"

He'd dreamed of Ginny touching him like this, and now it was a reality. Harry removed his hand and nudged Ginny's legs wider with his knee, and he suddenly realized the significance of what they were about to do. This was the first time for both of them. They were going to experience it together, in love. As he positioned himself above Ginny, he caressed her face and said, "I love you so much, Ginny."

"I love you, Harry, more than I can say," Ginny whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "And now we'll be truly joined, we'll belong to each other, always." She wrapped both arms around him then, and let the pressure of his body on top of hers push her legs wider, so he could enter her more easily. Ginny could feel her body trembling, but she was not afraid. She'd never wanted anything more in her life. "Harry," she sighed, and she slid her hands down his back, pressing him against her.

Harry knew enough about sex to know that for girls, the first time could be somewhat . . . unpleasant. So, with that in mind, he held Ginny and entered her slowly, watching for any sign of discomfort. For him, though, he had never experienced anything so wonderful.

Ginny began breathing a little faster, a little harder, as Harry gently slid inside her. She didn't want to cry out, or for him to think she was in pain. It didn't hurt, exactly. It did feel a little strange at first, to be so stretched, and she instinctively clenched herself in a way that would not make things easier. Then Ginny took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and made herself relax, staring up into Harry's eyes as she did, and smiling at him. "I'm fine, Harry, I'm okay," she whispered. "Don't hold back—I want you as much as you want me."

Concerned, Harry froze and looked at Ginny. "Am I hurting you?" The last thing he wanted was to cause Ginny any pain.

"No, no, sweetheart," Ginny murmured, running her fingers through his hair as she reassured him. "You are _not_ hurting me, I promise you. I can't believe how . . . beautiful it feels." _And it does,_ she thought to herself. The strangeness of the sensation had passed quickly, and now, with every moment, Ginny was becoming more and more aroused as her body quickly adjusted to holding Harry inside her. She hugged him even closer, and somehow, without understanding how she knew it was right, Ginny wrapped her legs around Harry's hips, gently pressing him in deeper. "And I'll bet," she breathed in his ear, "it will feel fantastic if you move a little faster . . ."

Now Harry smiled a little, relieved that Ginny really was okay, because this felt so good. As he pushed deeper inside, instinct took over, and he began to thrust, and each time he did, the friction was so intense that he began to pant, his hot breath tickling Ginny's neck.

" _Oh . . ._ " Ginny moaned as she began to squirm under Harry, the pleasure of their joining increasing each time Harry thrust deeper inside her. Before long, Ginny could not hold herself back, and instinctively lifted her hips up to meet his every time Harry drove himself further inside her. "Oh, Harry," she whispered, tightening her arms and legs around him and kissing his neck, his shoulders, any bit of him she could reach. "I didn't know it would feel _so_ amazing . . . _OH!_ "

Harry began to thrust faster—he couldn't help it. The growing pressure each time he moved inside Ginny brought wave after wave of pleasure. Ginny's response convinced him that she was experiencing just as much pleasure. He kissed her face, her neck. He buried his face in her neck, moaning as he neared climax.

As Harry's breath blew hot and warm against her neck with his every thrust, Ginny shivered and groaned. For months now, she had dreamed and wondered what it would be like, to finally make love to Harry. This, what they were doing now, was so much more intense, so exquisite, past anything she had imagined in those dreams. And it was only their first time . . .

Ginny cried out and clung tightly to Harry as a coil of wonderful, amazing tension began to build in her belly; she knew what was about to happen, but was breathless at the thought of it. She was sure she would never get enough of this, enough of _him_. Ginny didn't want him to stop kissing her, moving inside her, carrying her over the edge of such bliss. "Harry, I love you," she whispered, then she kissed his cheek and held onto him even tighter.

It was Ginny's words that helped him find release, and as he came he cried out, not quite believing that it could feel _this_ good. That after all their waiting, this was their sweet reward.

Ginny's cry was an echo of Harry's; as he shook and trembled against her, she could not believe how sweet it felt to know she had given him that much pleasure. She stroked her hands down his back, soothing and whispering his name as he quieted, and wondered at the strength of her own desire, still smoldering deep in her womb. As she tried to calm her own breathing, Ginny realised that she still wanted him, still wished he was pushing himself deep inside her.

Harry shuddered against Ginny and held her tightly. He was amazed at how drained he felt, yet how completely sated at the same time. When he finally calmed down, he rested his head on Ginny's chest, breathing in her scent, and said, "I love you so much, Ginny Potter." Then, in the stillness of their breathing, he raised his head and asked, the concern evident in his tone, "Was it . . . are you all right?"

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered, smiling at him as her fingers floated down the side of his face. "I'm much more than all right. And," she said with a giggle, "I never realised how beautiful 'Ginny Potter' would sound." Then she grew serious again, looking a bit puzzled as she stroked her fingers through his hair. "I can't believe we've finally made love, and that you were so . . . well, that it was so beautiful, so much better than I was expecting. But . . ." She paused and lowered her eyes shyly. "I still feel like I want you, like I wish we hadn't stopped. Is—is that normal?"

"You still . . ." Then it hit him. "Oh. Oh! Oh, Ginny, you didn't . . . ?" Horrified at his insensitivity, he propped himself up and said, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't . . . I mean, I didn't know . . ."

"What, sweetheart?" Ginny moved her hands down to Harry's shoulders as she searched his face. "What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?" She lifted herself up, trying to kiss him. "I've heard that . . . well, that it doesn't happen every time." Her voice grew softer as she ran her hands down his arms. "A climax, I mean. It doesn't matter, Harry, really. It was amazing, making love to you. More amazing than anything I'd ever dreamed. And it was for you, too, right? I just . . ." She hesitated, then smiled up at him and touched his face. "I just want, husband, to make sure I'm doing everything right."

Harry took Ginny's hand in his own and caressed it gently. "How can you say such a thing? Couldn't you tell? Couldn't you tell how you make me feel? I've never felt anything as . . . amazing as that. And it's all because of you, Ginny. YOU did that to me." He kissed her palm then, and relaxed into her arms. Once again resting his head on her chest, he could hear her heartbeat. "It's all you, Ginny. It's always been you."

Ginny was so happy, so content lying there with Harry in her arms, she thought she might cry from the sheer joy of it. "And it's always been you, for me," she whispered. "I've never really wanted anyone else, and never will."

Harry turned his head and took Ginny's hand. The gold band sparkled in the candlelight. He kissed it softly and sighed. "I am going to spend the rest of my life making you happy, Ginny Potter."

Ginny touched her fingertips to his lips. "And that's all I've ever wanted—a life with you. Here we are," she looked around the room, the candles bathing everything in a soft, warm glow, "in our own house, married, starting our life together." Ginny paused, brushing the hair off Harry's forehead. "We've just made love for the first of what I hope will be many, many times." She smiled and then slid down in the bed so they were face to face, and kissed him gently on the lips. "You've already made me happier than I ever dreamed I could be, Harry."

Harry touched Ginny's lips with the tips of his fingers. "This is just the beginning, Ginny. It's only going to get better. I promise."

"Beyond magic," Ginny sighed, settling her cheek on Harry's chest and closing her eyes.

"Beyond magic," Harry whispered, gazing up at the ceiling and wrapping his arms around his wife.

 

******  


 

  
The sun rose over the eastern sky as it always did, but this morning was the first for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, who slept soundly in their bed. A lone owl circled the house after its night of hunting, but when it spotted an object on the front stoop, it swooped down to investigate. The _Daily Prophet_ had been dropped off that morning, and Uther, the Potters' owl, began to read the front page, which was adorned with a very large photograph of its masters.

 

_**ME, MYSELF, AND I** _   


  
_An Exclusive Report by Rita Skeeter_   
_Special Correspondent to the Daily Prophet_

  
  
_The Wedding of the Decade . . . and yours truly, Rita Skeeter, was there to record every glorious detail for you, dear readers—at the especial request of the Chosen One himself, I might add. After some very particular and complicated negotiations, I delightedly accepted a very personal invitation to be present at the wedding of Harry Potter and his lucky bride, Ginny, née Weasley. And what a day it was!_

_Certainly Harry's beloved, deceased parents, James and Lily Potter, looked down with great pride and joy on their son as he made his vows with HIS "chosen one." The bride's parents—an eccentric but delightfully homespun couple—were certainly beaming with joy over the amazing catch their daughter made, I can tell you! Arnold Weasley works in a low-level but . . . interesting department of the Ministry, and Molly Weasley is a devoted mother to their large brood, with the new Mrs. Potter being their only daughter. So you can be sure they did everything within their humble means to make her day magically special!_

_Certainly the occasion was given the solemn seal of universal approval due to the presence of the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, as officiant. There's a nuptial knot that won't be untied, readers—though it's obvious the two young lovebirds are devoted to each other to an extraordinary degree. One might almost think our hero had been slipped a love potion, so besotted was the look with which he regarded his bride. But I'm sure it's just the throes of young love, dear readers. If you check out the special photo insert in this collector's edition of the Daily Prophet, you can judge for yourself._

_The guest list was certainly jam-packed with not only the elite of the wizarding world, represented by the Minister and several highly placed Ministry officials, but also the less-glamourous element as well. Rubbing shoulders with the likes of Hogwarts' Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, and the esteemed Olivander were school chums of the couple, including the ever-entertaining Luna Lovegood (how tragic that her father, editor of the Quibbler could not attend) and Neville Longbottom, tipped to take over the position of Herbology Professor on Pomona Sprout's imminent retirement. But you didn't hear that bit of inside gossip from me, dear readers! *wink*_

_After the ceremony, the enchanted couple mingled with their guests and danced the night away. Along with a surprisingly impressive goblin-made tiara, the new Mrs. Potter wore a rather . . . uncomplicated but becoming gown of off-white (How interesting—do you think there's any significance to that colour choice? Inquiring minds ARE curious!). The glow that is the natural accoutrement of any bride was also present all about Ginny Potter, enhancing her sweet, girl-next-door features and transforming her into an astonishing vision of nuptial loveliness. It was plain to see how she turned Harry Potter's head. And here's a scoop for you, as fresh and dewy as the bride's bouquet: I have heard, from one of my most trustworthy sources, that Mrs. Potter will shortly be replacing Gwenog Jones as captain of the Holyhead Harpies! After, of course, the newlyweds' wedding trip through wizarding Europe, which they will tour like the wizard royalty they truly are._

_This reporter was hard at work yesterday, not only recording this historic event for your enjoyment, but uncovering ALL the news of interest. A wedding is certainly the most romantic of events, and we must not be surprised if others took advantage of the passion-soaked atmosphere in unlimited abundance on this occasion! I am thrilled to announce that Harry Potter's closest friends seem to have found love at long last. Ronald Weasley (currently unemployed) and Hermione Granger (a plain, rather aggressive Muggle-born girl), were spotted in a clinch down by the gate of the Weasley orchard, just after the honeymooning couple Apparated away. Whispers were overheard, secret plans were being discussed . . . is another Weasley wedding just round the corner, dear readers? Stay tuned to this column, and you'll know every detail as soon as I do!_

_For a full report, with photos, of the Minister for Magic's antics after a nip too much Firewhisky at the reception, turn to page 12 . . ._

  
  
Uther hooted his disgust. He glanced once up at the house, then back at the paper. Then he took flight, after making use of the paper to its full extent, and left the soiled and now illegible tabloid where it was. After all, his master didn't need to read such rubbish. He had better things to do now.  
  
  
 _ **The Beginning . . .**_

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